


Fade to Black

by ElleMalfoy65



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleMalfoy65/pseuds/ElleMalfoy65
Summary: On the fifth anniversary of the end of the war, George is surprised when Hermione shows up at the joke shop and collapses, unconscious. George calls in Draco for help and they will work together to try and help Hermione come out of whatever magical slumber she's induced herself into and why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, I had never intended on posting this so soon, but I am just so excited about it. I am stepping out of my comfort zone here with writing an angsty piece and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have been writing it. Once again, thank you so much to my amazing beta, Frogster. You are the best ever! I can never forget my amazing Alpha, Courtney. Without you, I wouldn't have the confidence to attempt writing this story. And a special thanks to CJRed, who took a look over the first chapter, thank you so much. And another HUGE thank you to the amazing Mr. Benzedrine for making the beautiful manip for this story. Without all of you, this wouldn’t be possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

George had thought that working today would be a good idea. That it would keep his mind off of what the day actually meant. For a while his efforts had actually been successful. There had been a steady stream of customers, plenty of laughs and questions about the products. But the best part had been that no one had looked at him with pity. It was as if they had all known that he was trying to avoid the memories that today would bring.

So seeing Hermione suddenly appear in front of his shop as he was closing and then collapse in a dead faint had scared George out of his wits. He hadn’t seen or heard from his little brother’s best friend since the war had ended, and to see her in such a state...he was unsure of what to do, aside from get her out of the street. 

St. Mungo’s was out of the question. George knew from Ron and Harry that Hermione hadn’t been out and about in the wizarding world since the war had ended. She had taken refuge back in the world she was raised in. If George took her there, Hermione would be plastered all over the Daily Prophet by morning. The Burrow was too crowded. Besides, she had to have come to him for a reason.

He finished warding the shop and turned to her. Levitating her unconscious form from the damp brick pavers, he floated her up the stairs at the side of the building that housed the joke shop.

He and Fred had bought this building because it had a two-bedroom flat above it. Their plans had been to run the shop and live above it--if the war hadn’t intervened and taken his twin from him. They had managed to live there from the time that the shop had opened until the war reached its apex.

George hadn’t been back up here since his brother had died, but he was out of options and had no choice. With his wand currently keeping Hermione afloat, he fished the brass key from his trouser pocket and fitted it into the hole, twisting the mechanisms open. He inhaled a slow and deep breath, holding it in as he swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. This was going to be painful, he knew.  
   
His hazel eyes were hidden behind his lids as his fist closed around the knob. George turned the cold metal until it wouldn’t twist anymore and held it there for a moment longer. He slowly released the breath he was holding as he pushed the door open wide. To be honest, he was afraid to open his eyes or take another breath in. What if it still smelled like Fred? What if Fred’s favorite teacup was still sitting beside his chair? What if the jumper mum had made for him was thrown haphazardly across a lampshade, the F clearly visible?

But he couldn't keep Hermione hovering out here forever. She would wake up eventually and he wanted her to be comfortable. All George had to do was make it to his bedroom and then he could close the door.

When his lungs burned with the need for air, he drew in a tentative breath and was relieved to find that the apartment didn't smell overwhelmingly of Fred. Instead, it smelled of the Burrow. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he opened his eyes and was assaulted with a pain in his chest, his heart squeezing painfully. There, just beside the plush green leather chair, was Fred’s favorite teacup, just where he’d left it.

George closed his eyes in a rush as once again wetness clung to his eyelashes. It had been exactly five years since his brother had died and it hurt just as much now as it did then. He had lost his other half.

But right now, he had to get Hermione inside and comfortable. He needed to get her awake and talking, he needed to find out what had her in such a state and why, of all people, she had come to him. George opened his eyes again and levitated Hermione carefully through the door, leading her to his bedroom.

He opened the doorway, swinging the door wide, and maneuvered her through, watching her curly hair dangling in the air. As he lowered her onto the bed, he noticed that the bed had been made and the sheets were different from the ones that had been on it previously. There was no dust on the side tables, or any of the furniture in the room and George smiled softly. His mother had been here cleaning without his knowledge, keeping the place up. It probably helped with her own grief.

George got Hermione settled, pulling a throw blanket over her legs and lifting her hands to rest on her stomach. It was then he noticed the wedding set on her finger and frowned. He didn't recall Ron ever mentioning that she had gotten married and George knew that his brother and Hermione had kept in touch over the years, as had she and Harry, and he hadn’t mentioned anything either.

A frown creased George’s brow as he twirled his wand in his fingers. There were tear tracks down her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy and red. Clearly she had been crying and he wondered if there had been a big fight with her mystery spouse. George thought about his owl down in the shop and chewed on the idea of sending an owl to Harry and Ron. But something stopped him. Hermione could have easily gone to either his brother or Harry, but she had come to him. There had to be a reason.

George heaved a heavy sigh, lifted his wand to Hermione’s chest and muttered quietly, “Ennervate.”

The light flared from the tip of his wand and her chest lifted from the bed. A gasp left her lips and her eyelids fluttered as if she were going to open them, but she fell back onto the mattress, still unconscious. George frowned. That should have worked. “Hermione?” he called to her, nudging her shoulder lightly.

No response came, just even breathing. He repeated the spell, with the same results. “Hermione! Wake up.” Still nothing.

George was at a loss. He had never experienced anything like this. He couldn't go to his mother with this; she would go mental. The smartest person he knew was lying unconscious in front of him. Harry and Ron were out of the question until he knew why Hermione had come to him.

He sat, watching Hermione for a few more minutes, still unsure of what to do. He summoned a bowl of water and a washcloth, rinsing the dust and grime away from her face. George decided to wait two hours. If she didn't wake up on her own, then he would call for someone, anyone he knew that might be able to help Hermione to regain consciousness.

George really wondered what had happened to Hermione to bring her to him, of all people. He sincerely hoped that she wasn't in any kind of trouble, or Godric forbid, danger. He'd help her if she was. She was like family, a sister, to him and he would never abandon his family if they were in need.

He turned to dip the washcloth in the water again, wringing the excess water out. As George turned back to Hermione and lifted the cloth to her temple, he watched as her brow dipped into a frown and a whimper left her lips. “Hermione?”

She didn't rouse at the mention of her name, but fell back into a motionless repose. George brought the damp cloth across her brow again, his eyes roaming her face. She looked the same; the freckles dusting her upturned nose and cheeks. The long, light brown lashes curled naturally, resting against the apples of her cheeks. But she had aged since the war, everyone had. It was evident in the lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

George glanced at the golden wristwatch on his arm--an hour to go. He hoped he’d be able to conjure a Patronus; otherwise he’d have to leave to go down to the shop to get to his owl. “Please wake up, Hermione.” He let a sigh slip past his lips as he returned the cloth to the basin once more. George spent the next hour watching her rest in her unconscious state, wiping her face every few minutes and praying to anyone who would listen that Hermione would wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

_June 4, 2000_

 

_The Second Wizarding War had ended and peace reigned once again in the wizarding world. All the former Death Eaters had been prosecuted and sentenced, their punishments carried out. Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys had testified on the behalf of the Malfoys who had been spies for the Order, despite what everyone else had believed. Snape had survived Nagini’s attack and he had also shown his memories to further prove the Malfoys’ innocence._

 

_Now everyone had dispersed, going their separate ways for a while. All needed space after the stress of the war. Sure, Hermione kept in touch with her two best friends via owl, but it had been two years since she'd seen them. She missed them like crazy, but she still felt unsettled by all she had seen in the war. She still couldn't get the image of Lavender’s battered, bruised, bloody and gnawed-upon body out of her mind. She still woke up from nightmares about it, drenched in sweat and shaking._

 

_That's why she was awake in the wee hours of the morning. The leftover sweat was drying on her brow as she pushed her hair back from her forehead. Her chest was heaving still, fingers trembling as she rose to stand from the bed. She moved to the closet. Pulling on a pair of running shorts and a tank, she decided on going for a run._

 

_After securing her trainers on her feet, she piled her hair on top of her head and left her parents’ house. She had left them in Australia. They were happy there and she didn't want to risk permanent damage by trying to reverse the memory charm._

 

_Hermione paused at the end of the drive and bent over to stretch her muscles. The sky was a pre-dawn grey and the fog was light; she couldn't tell if it was going to be a drizzly day or a bright day yet, but the feeling of humidity in the air told her that rain wasn't far off._

 

_Once her muscles were loose, she took off into a light jog down the sidewalk. Her eyes stayed on her feet, watching them hit the pavement as she went. Her normally active mind was blissfully empty as she focused on the sound, rhythm and feeling of when her foot would connect with the concrete under her shoe._

 

_She was so absorbed in her process that she didn't hear the other runner approaching until it was too late for the both of them. They crashed into each other with a loud sound and Hermione went flying backwards, casting a silent, wandless cushioning charm to lessen her impact. The man across from her, however, didn't fare as well as she did._

 

_He had thrown his arms behind him, his hands catching his fall, scraping the palms raw. The coppery scent of blood hit Hermione’s nose and made her chest seize in panic. For a moment, she was back in the war, but the moment passed and she jumped right into concerned mode. “Oh, I am so sorry! I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?”_

 

_The man arranged himself, leaning forward to move his hands around to the front of his body. He turned his palms up, their eyes falling to the bloody, jagged cuts. There were dust, grass and other small debris in the wounds and Hermione winced. “I've had worse,” he assured her._

 

_Hermione looked around, noticing she was only a few houses down from hers. She gave the man an apologetic smile once more and pointed. “My house is just there. I've got a kit, if you'd like to go and clean it up.” She knew he was a Muggle; she could feel it, as surely as one could feel their hand attached to their body. “I'm Hermione, by the way.”_

 

_The man looked at her with a smile and she truly looked at him for the first time. He was a handsome bloke, with black hair, eyes that were impossibly blue, and a strong, prominent jaw. His cheekbones were high and distinguished, and his nose would have been straight, had it not appeared to have been broken a couple of times. “Name’s Tad. Tad Wallace.”_

 

_Hermione stood, brushing her arse off, and waited for him to rise with a little difficulty. She then turned, looking back to make sure he was following, and walked toward her house. Silently, she dropped her wards, making it so he could enter. She had left it visible to Muggles, but no one could enter without her permission._

 

_They crossed the threshold, and she closed the door behind them, narrowly suppressing the urge to throw every lock and bolt home. She settled for just locking the deadbolt, and led Tad into the kitchen. “Here, have a seat and I'll be right back.”_

 

_She left him in the kitchen and went to her bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit and a towel, keeping her wand in close proximity. Tad was physically stronger than she was and could easily overpower her, and if that happened, then she could overpower him with magic and obliviate him. She went back to the kitchen, expecting to see him in the chair she’d pointed out. But instead, he was at the sink, rinsing the wounds out with water. Hermione tilted her head as she watched him. He was smart. Not many people would have thought to do that, especially while being in pain._

 

_She laid the kit on the table and opened it, retrieving the items she needed: peroxide, triple antibiotic ointment, and bandages. She also pulled out the tweezers just in case there was a stray pebble or something stuck inside a cut._

 

_He came back to the table and sat down, laying his hands palm up on the surface. Hermione gently inspected the jagged cuts, making sure there was nothing foreign stuck there. Satisfied that all debris was clear, the unscrewed the lid off the peroxide bottle. “This will probably sting.”_

 

_Tad made a grimace and chuckled as he lifted his arms for Hermione to tuck a towel under his hands. “It's okay, I assure you, I've had much worse.”_

 

_While he had assured her, it still didn't stop the groan of pain that had escaped his lips when the astringent had started to bubble and clean the microscopic dirt away. Hermione felt horrible. If she could just use her magic, she could take away the pain._

 

_It took ten long minutes for each new drop of peroxide to finally stop bubbling, indicating that the dirt was gone. Hermione was glad. She promptly used a clean towel to pat dry his palms, then applied ointment liberally and bandaged them carefully. “All done,” she said with a smile, looking into his face._

 

_“May I take you to dinner? By way of thanks?” His ocean blue eyes were hopeful and she couldn't help but say yes._

 

_“Absolutely, that would be wonderful.”_

 

_They made arrangements for the following Friday, exchanging numbers and Tad had left, going on his merry way. Hermione decided to abandon her run and make breakfast instead, then settle in for a day of reading and relaxation. And that is exactly what she had done, excited at the prospect of her date next week._

 

XxX

 

The second hour had gone by as slowly as a snail climbing to the top of a lamp post. George had long ago abandoned the dip and wipe routine with the washcloth, figuring he would start wiping off layers of Hermione’s skin if he kept it up. She had stirred a few more times in that hour, as if she were dreaming. He would catch a glimpse of a small smile before it would disappear in a frown and whimper.

 

George heaved a sigh and rose from the chair he had been occupying, his back cracking from the readjustment of his spine. First things first, he needed to relieve his bladder and in order to do that, he had to go back out into the main room. With a large inhale filling his lungs, he walked out of his room. His eyes immediately zeroed in on that mug and the pain returned full force once again.

 

It was like someone had placed his heart in a small box and was slowly closing the sides in, making the box smaller and smaller by the second. Before the panic set in, he ran into the bathroom and shut the door, gulping at the air. George didn't dare look too closely at the supplies in the bathroom. He knew it would still hold all of Fred’s things as well as his own. He simply quickly relieved himself, washed his hands and scrambled free of the confined space.

 

The door to the flat opened before he could reach it, his magic having surged before him. The cool air hit George in the face, helping to calm his racing and hurting heart. He left the door open as he stood on the landing, in the event that Hermione woke up.

 

George held his wand aloft, let his eyes fall closed and began to sift through his brain to find the happiest memory he could drum up. But every memory that made him happy included Fred and before long, he had tears streaming down his cheeks. With each cherished memory replaying in his mind’s eye, he was laughing while crying, healing a little without realizing it. Finally settling on the memory of the Grand Opening of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, George called out confidently, “Expecto Patronum.”

 

His lids opened as he felt the magic burst from him, and when his hazel eyes landed on the silvery white figure before him, his heart squeezed and he smiled softly, tears prickling his eyes. There, blinking up at him with a goofy and toothy grin, was a hyena. It seemed his Patronus had changed to mimic his brother’s and it couldn't have made him happier. Fred hadn’t truly left him after all. “I need you to go and find Healer Malfoy.” A dip of the hyena’s head said that it understood and George continued with his message for the healer. “I need you to come to the flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes immediately, please.”

 

The hyena was off in a moment, a silvery trail marking its disappearance as it took off. George returned to Hermione’s side, hoping that the Healer who had helped him through his most difficult times could help Hermione. He was getting more worried as time wore on. George sat back in the chair, leaning forward to take Hermione’s hand in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. Healer Malfoy had better get here soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello again my dears, it is I, Elle! We are here with out third installment of Fade to Black and I hope that you enjoy it as much as you have the other two chapters! Here, we have Healer Malfoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle!

Draco was sitting in front of the fire in his suite of rooms, his stormy grey eyes locked on the flames. He had been a mere shell of himself for the past year and a half, but that’s what losing the love of your life could do to you. When he lost Astoria, he’d lost his best friend, his other half and the mother of their beautiful little boy. All to some congenital heart defect that had been unknown to anyone. Astoria had obviously had it her whole life, but this was one instance where Muggle medicine was actually better than wizarding medicine. If she had been born a Muggle, it would have been detected and could have been corrected, allowing her to live out her life. But instead, she had been stolen from him while giving birth to Scorpius.

He hurtled his tumbler of Firewhiskey into the fireplace, the flames roaring in reaction to the alcohol hitting them. It still angered him, the injustice of it all. After all that his family had been through in the second wizarding war, being spies for the Order, doing the right damned thing. His father killed by Voldemort himself for being too soft, his mother barely scraping by with her life. They deserved happiness. But Merlin, the fates, whoever the fuck it was, had decided to continue to take a shite on their fortunes. Sure, he had his son, the light of his life, the only thing keeping him afloat, but he missed Astoria so damned much.

Now, here he sat, at the age of twenty-three, a widower. He and his mother had their marital status in common as well as their pale blond hair and a son who was missing a parent. Draco heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, letting his memory conjure the image of Astoria on the day she’d told him she was pregnant. She had been radiant. Her blue eyes had been alight with a love and excitement that had little to do with him in that moment and everything to do with the fact that they had finally conceived. Finally created a life inside of her body. They had been trying since they had gotten married at the end of 1999. It had taken two long years, but they had finally done it and her joy had been incandescent.

She had been sleeping peacefully next to him that fateful night, her stomach round and heavy, propped up by pillows. He’d kissed her goodnight and told her he loved her, just as he always had. Draco loved when she would lay on her back and he would lay next to her and just run his hand over the rounded bump, talking to their child, until she fell asleep. But when she woke him the next morning, she was scared to death. Her water had broken and she was having contractions so intense that she was bent over double.

The specialized healers were called in and everything had gone smoothly until she had started pushing. That was when everything had went awry. Her heart had started to give out on her and Scorpius got stuck in the birth canal. Her final words had been, “Save him, save Scorpius.” Then her eyes had rolled back in her head and her heart had stopped beating. The Healers had split up then, one moving to work on Astoria, the other working to free Scorpius from her body. One was successful, the other was not. She was gone from him and there had been nothing he could do to save her. Oh, he had tried. Everything he knew, but it had been too late. All the healer training he had been through had been useless.

As he sat beside his wife’s lifeless body, they had handed him his squirming newborn son, his little cries filling the room. Draco had looked down upon the tiny bundle in his arms. His son had a head full of straight blond hair, just like his, but eyes of the richest blue, just like his mother’s. They had never decided on a name together, just thrown around the options, but the last word she had uttered had been the name she wanted for him. That was the name their child was going to receive as a last tribute to his wife.

Sitting in front of the fire, he rubbed his fist over his aching heart, pulled from his thoughts as a Patronus in the shape of a hyena appeared before him, tongue out, panting as if it were a real animal. Out of the misty shape came George Weasley’s voice, strained and stressed. “I need you to come to the flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes immediately, please.”

Draco frowned as the Patronus faded into nothing, its job done. He knew that the last time he’d seen George, about three months ago, the surviving twin had yet to return to the flat he and Fred had shared. So for George to be summoning Draco to that very flat had him immediately worried. He knew the kind of pain that places like that could take you. If it hadn’t been for Draco’s counseling sessions and Scorpius, he probably would have gone down the same road as George.

Draco was thankful for Healer Brownstone, and he had inspired Draco to further his healer career by becoming a grief counselor.

Draco rose from the leather chair and left his room to go in search of his mother and Scorpius. Draco found them in the sun room and he could hear the giggling before he even got to the door.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiled, watching his mother hold a squirming Scorpius as she tickled his ribs. As the littlest Malfoy had grown the last year and a half, his looks had morphed, his face narrowing out a little. He used to look exactly like his mother, and it had pained Draco to look at his son. But now Scorpius had begun to favor Draco more, though still retaining some of his mother’s features, like her soft, rounded nose -- not pointed like Draco’s -- and Astoria’s blue eyes.

Those sharp blue eyes locked onto Draco and a wide smile lit Scorpius’ face. “Daddy!” He finally squirmed free of his grandmother’s grip and ran over to Draco. 

Draco knelt down and opened his arms, scooping his son up and kissing all over his face. “Hello, buddy. Are you having fun with Grammy?” 

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, his grin never fading. “Yyyyyep.”

Narcissa had gotten up and walked over to the boys with a smile, leaning up to give Draco a kiss on the cheek. She had always been able to tell when something was bothering him. “Is something wrong, darling?”

Draco set Scorpius back down on the floor and watched as his son ran over to the toy train set and began playing with it. “George called for me just a moment ago, he said he needed me immediately.” 

Narcissa frowned, her eyes darting over to check on her grandson. “Weasley?” Draco nodded and his mother sighed. “I’ll watch over Scorpius, you go. It could be an emergency.” When Draco hesitated, his mother gently nudged his arm. “Draco, go! I have Scorpius.”

“Scorp, buddy, Daddy has to go out for a bit. But I’ll be back for bedtime, okay?” 

Scorpius looked up from the train and grinned Draco’s way, “Kay, Daddy. Love you.” 

Draco inhaled slowly and smiled back at his son, “I love you too, buddy. Bye, mum. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can, but I’ll definitely be back to put him down for bed.”

Narcissa shooed him away and he left to go and grab his Healer’s kit from his room. He wasn’t sure what he’d be walking into and he wanted to be prepared. Draco closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, calming himself enough to apparate to Diagon Alley. He landed in front of George’s joke shop and headed for the stairs at the side of the building. Once at the landing on top, he knocked on the door, stepping back to wait, hoping George answered unharmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so excited to get this chapter posted. It is the longest chapter yet. It gives us another glimpse into Hermione’s past. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

George had zoned out while sitting in the chair beside the bed. His eyes were unfocused but trained on Hermione so that any movement from her would have pulled him from his daze. But instead of movement from Hermione, it was an insistent knock on the door that pulled him from his stupor. George rose from his seat and walked through the flat to the door. He swung the panel wide and sagged in relief, his knees nearly giving out on him when he saw Draco on the other side of the door. “Thank Godric you’re here.”

 

Draco’s grey eyes moved up and down his form, checking him over. He had no doubt thought that George had called for himself. “You’re okay?” Draco asked, worry coloring his tone.

 

George looked up at his friend, straightening his spine as he nodded, avoiding glancing around the flat. “As okay as I can be, being back here today of all days.”

 

Once again, Draco eyed him from head to toe. “And what exactly brought you back here today, George? Last we had talked, you had no intention of ever returning up here. What changed?”

 

“Oh! She's in my room.” George turned and started back to his room, but when he didn't hear Draco following him, he turned around and looked back. “Draco, come on. She needs your help.”

 

Draco’s brows rose. “George, what exactly are you dragging me into here? This wasn't some product testing gone bad, was it? Or if you got some girl knocked up, you're going to have to deal with the consequences, because I don't do that kind of practice.” George sighed softly. He knew that he couldn't tell Draco that Hermione was the one laying on that bed. He may well refuse to treat her if he knew before hand. There had always been that animosity between Draco and Hermione, though George saw it for what it was -- sexual tension. Those two were so attracted to each other that one touch was likely to make them combust. Well, when both were conscious, that is.

 

“No, it's not either of those. Look, this girl just apparated out of thin air, right in front of the shop as I was closing and collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. I tried to wake her, but nothing has worked.” George sighed, running his hand down his face. He knew what question would come next.

 

“Why didn't you take her to St. Mungo’s?” Draco asked, following up with the next obvious question. “And why did it take you two hours to call me? Your shop closes at six.”

 

George inhaled and blew the air out slowly, puffing out his cheeks. “Taking her to Mungo’s would have created a publicity shite storm that she wouldn’t have wanted. And I waited to call, because I wanted to see if she'd wake up on her own. I know I should have called you immediately, but I was honestly still debating what to do.”

 

Draco frowned when George mentioned publicity. But it had intrigued him enough that he stepped into the flat and shut the door behind him. He met George halfway across the flat, his eyes falling to the dirty mug. “Is that Fred’s?”

 

George drew in a hitched breath and sighed, his head dipping in a nod. “Yeah. It's where he left it when we left. Now come on.” George resumed his steps, heading towards his open bedroom door. He stepped inside ahead of Draco, leaning over Hermione to brush her hair back and block her from view, forcing Draco to have to enter the room fully.

 

The footsteps behind George halted on the opposite side of the bed abruptly and the sound of Draco’s medical bag hitting the floor echoed loudly around the room. “Is that -- is that Granger?”

George turned to look at Draco, his eyes pleading. “Yes, Draco. It is.”

 

“Where has she been? No one has seen her since the war ended…” He trailed off, shaking his head slowly. “Now I see what you meant about not taking her to Mungo’s. That was the right choice.” Draco repeated George’s earlier move, inhaling and blowing the breath out, puffing his cheeks. “Okay, let me see.” He picked up his kit, sitting it on the bed.

 

George watched as Draco popped the latches, opening up the large maw. His deft fingers withdrew a stethoscope and fitted the ear pieces into his ears. Those same fingers followed the black rubber tube down to the silver disc on the end. He lifted the disc and tapped on it with his fingertip, nodding at what he heard, then placed it on Hermione’s chest over her heart. Draco listened for a long moment, his eyes closed. When he was satisfied with what he heard, he moved the small disc to another place on her chest. It appeared to George that he was checking her lungs.

 

Draco straightened his back and looked up at George. “Her heart and lungs sound fine. I'm going to check her temperature and blood pressure.” George nodded dumbly, he had no clue what any of that truly meant. He just sat back down in his chair and took Hermione’s hand. His eyes lifted at the sound of Velcro being ripped free and he tilted his head. Draco sure liked to use Muggle things, it seemed. He slipped the dark blue band onto her arm and fastened it.

 

Draco put the stethoscope back into his ears and placed the disc into the bend of Hermione’s elbow. He used his free hand to pick up a bulb attached to the band on her arm and began to pump. George could hear the little miff, miff, miff and watched as the cuff tightened on her arm. This caused Hermione to whimper a bit, but she fell back into her quiet repose a moment later. Draco had his eyes closed again as he listened, his fingers twisting a little dial on the pump, a hissing noise emitting from the cuff. The air, no doubt, was being freed from the cuff on Hermione’s arm.

 

Draco took out a Muggle thermometer next and stuck it under Hermione's arm, waiting quietly until there was a beep. “Her blood pressure, pulse and temperature are all fine. So you said she just appeared and collapsed, unconscious? She didn't say anything at all?”

 

George shook his head, “No. I was locking up, about to set the wards when I heard the crack of apparition, so I turned around. There she was, her eyes bugged out in her head and scared looking. But she only had her footing for a few seconds before her eyes rolled back and she fell to the ground. I levitated her up here, tried to Ennervate her twice and it didn't work. So I've just been washing her face and talking to her a little, thinking maybe she'd wake up on her own.”

 

Draco clicked his tongue as he returned his attention to Hermione. “Now, just a moment ago, she whimpered. Has she done that any other time?”

 

A dip of his head and George spoke, “Yes, she did earlier. Frowned too. I called her name, but nothing.”

 

They both looked down at Hermione. Her face was relaxed at the moment. “She was dirty when she got her. Grimy, like she'd been working in the garden or something,” George added. “Some of it, well really what's on her clothes on this side, is from her falling in the street. But the rest of it was there when she showed up.”

 

Draco’s eyes roamed her clothing and George noticed them stop on her left hand that George had abandoned holding. Hermione’s wedding set was shining in the light of the lamp. George nodded and cleared his throat, “Umm, yeah, I noticed that too. Had no idea she was married. Harry and Ron have never mentioned it, so it makes me wonder if they know.”

 

Grey eyes flashed up to meet his, “Where are Potter and your brother? I'm surprised they aren't here.”

 

“I haven't told them she's here…” George let that hang in the air, avoiding Draco’s penetrating gaze. He could feel it boring into the side of his head, but he just looked down at Hermione.

 

“Why?” was all that left Draco’s lips.

 

George sighed, reaching out to play with a curl at the side of Hermione’s face. “She hasn't been in the wizarding world in five years, mate. She's only communicated with her best friends through owl. I'm 99 percent positive that they have no clue she is married. Hermione knows where both of them live and yet she chose to come to me. There had to be a reason for that. Until I find out that reason, I'm not telling anyone else. And I won't know that until she wakes up.”

 

He once again felt Draco’s gaze. “So that's where she's been? Hiding away in the Muggle world? And secretly married, too. But you're right, she had to have chosen you for a reason. Okay, let me see if I can get her awake and talking.”

 

XxX

 

_June 9, 2000_

 

_Hermione had just finished getting ready for her date with Tad. He wasn’t due to arrive for another 30 minutes. To say she was excited would have been an understatement. She had never been on a proper Muggle date before. Hell, she'd never been on a proper date as an adult. That bloody war had intervened._

 

_Her doorbell rang and she looked at the clock, surprised. Tad was early. That was a nice way to start the evening. She made her way to the front door and glanced through the peephole first, just to make sure it was him, and opened the door. “Hello.”_

 

_"Hello, Hermione.” Tad smiled down at her, and then his eyes moved to take in what she was wearing. “You look absolutely beautiful.”_

 

_Hermione felt her cheeks heat in a blush. “Thank you.” Tad pulled his arm from behind his back -- she hadn't noticed that he'd been hiding it -- and in his hand was a bouquet of daisies. Hermione’s smile widened. Daisies were her favorite flower. “Oh, Tad, they're beautiful. And my favorites.” Hermione took them from him and walked into the house with him following._

 

_In the kitchen, she took a vase from under the sink and filled it with water, casting a wandless charm on it to make the flowers last longer, and slid the flowers in. She then moved to set them on the kitchen table. “Really, thank you. You didn't have to do that.”_

 

_Tad smiled at her again and it was breathtaking. His teeth were straight, even, and brilliantly white. His blue eyes were impossibly bright against his dark lashes. “Well, they are another way to show my appreciation and thankfulness for you helping me with my hands.”_

 

_“Oh yes, how are your hands?” Hermione asked, her eyes dropping to them. He held them up, showing her the large beige bandages just on his palms. “They're doing much better, thanks to your first aid expertise.”_

 

_They fell into an easy laughter for a couple of minutes and it felt nice. It had been a few years since Hermione had laughed like that. She had needed it. “Are you ready to go?” Tad asked. Hermione nodded and rose from the chair she had sat down at._

 

_They left her house and began walking down the sidewalk. Earlier in the week they had agreed upon a small cafe that was close to where they both lived so that they could walk there. It was a particularly pleasant June, so it was nice out at this time in the evening._

 

_“Now, I know you're technically not supposed to ask a woman's age, but how old are you?” Tad cast her a sideways glance with a playful grin and Hermione laughed softly._

 

_“I'll be twenty-one in September. What about you?” She asked as they walked, her fingers brushing the skirt of her sundress._

 

_Tad looked ahead as if in deep thought, then glanced over at her with a smile. “I just turned twenty-seven last month. So it seems I am older than you. What do you do for work?”_

 

_Hermione almost paused in her walk, but managed to keep going. She should have known their conversation would have taken this route. They needed to get to know each other after all. “Well, I'm not working currently. I have an inheritance that my parents left me. But I plan on starting university soon.”_

 

_The little cafe came into view and they walked up to its doors, Tad beat her to them and opened one half wide for her. “After you, m’lady.” Hermione let out a small giggle and walked through the opened entrance. “Thank you, kind sir.”_

 

_Once they were seated, their conversation resumed, “So what do you do for work, Tad?” Hermione asked as she picked up her menu._

 

_Tad looked up from his menu with another one of his heart stopping smiles. “I'm a Captain in the British Army.”_

 

_Well color Hermione impressed, to be a Captain at such a young age had to be an accomplishment. “Is that something that's common for someone your age?”_

 

_Tad nodded, “Yes, generally it is. It's just how the progression goes. It's a pain to explain. Have you always lived in this area? I'm sure I would have remembered you from school, even though I am older.”_

 

_Hermione nodded with a small smile, “I have, but my parents sent me to a boarding school for the gifted when I was eleven. I was struggling to fit in at school here. I was already two grades ahead of the classmates my age.” Okay, that wasn't an outright lie. But it still burned in her throat and tasted horribly on her tongue. No relationship, be it friends or more, should be based on lies. But that damned Statute of Secrecy was a bitch._

 

_"Oh, that would make sense, then. So you must be very intelligent then.” Tad said, just as the server arrived._

 

_With their drinks and meal ordered, the server left and Hermione answered his question, “Yes, I have an eidetic memory; it comes in handy. I’ve always loved to read, so it was never a problem for me to do my schoolwork.”_

 

_“Are you one of those that will read anywhere? While you cook, while you eat, in the tub?” Tad asked, glancing up as the server set down their drinks._

 

_Hermione laughed softly, lifting her water for a sip. “Yeah, I guess you could say I'm a bit of a swotty bookworm. All I do is read, whether it be for school or pleasure.”_

 

_Their food was delivered shortly after and their conversation went on throughout the meal, continuing to be easy going and filled with laughter. Hermione knew then that they would be great friends, if not more._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Blackians! I’m so excited for this chapter! I truly am. It is almost double the size of the last chapter and the biggest chapter yet. I have left some pretty big Easter eggs in this chapter, I hope that you catch them. I have been loving reading your theories so far. Keep them coming. Let me know what you think of this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

Draco had tried spell after spell to wake Hermione, all to no avail. The magic he had expended had caused sweat to bead on his brow and upper lip and his hair to fall into his eyes. He pushed his hair out of his eyes with his hand as he sighed and sank onto the bed with Hermione’s lax body. He was exhausted, if he were being honest with himself.

 

“Why isn’t she waking?” George asked from beside him, worry etched on every line of his face. He looked like Draco felt, like they were both failures.

 

Draco sighed softly, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. The potions are next, but with her lack of response, I don’t know if they are going to work either. I honestly think she may be holding herself in this coma of sorts. And there may be nothing we can do until she wakes on her own. Especially if the potions won’t work.”

 

George quickly turned his head in Draco’s direction, his eyes widening. “What do you mean the potions might not work?” He looked back down at Hermione, a frown pulling his brows down. He reached forward and brushed his hand across his forehead. “If they don’t work, how long do you think it will be until she wakes up?”

 

Draco shook his head and puffed his cheeks out, blowing the air out of them. “I honestly have no idea, this is beyond anything I’ve ever seen or studied. She must have gone through something major to cause her to shut down mentally, something very traumatic. If that is the case, it is up to Granger when she wakes up.”

 

He opened the black bag on the floor at his feet and began pulling phials out of its depths. The liquids inside the phials varied in color, from pearlescent purple to a putrid looking brown. Draco hoped that one of them would rouse Granger, for all of their sakes. He pulled the stopper out of the first, his nose turning up at the vile scent. “George, can you tilt her head back and hold her jaw open?”

 

George nodded and did as he was told, his thumb on her forehead rubbing gently, his eyes watching her face. It was clear he was worried sick about her, but Draco wasn’t sure in what sense. In a way, it reminded him of how he was with Astoria’s sister, Daphne. But in another way, it also reminded him of his early courtship with Astoria. He clenched his jaw. He had to focus on Granger now, not think about Tori. It would only send him into his depression and anger. Granger didn’t deserve that right now. She deserved all of his attention.

 

He tipped the phial against her lips, the sluggish green liquid dropping in globs onto her tongue. Draco pulled the phial back to level, allowing what had gotten into her mouth to slide down her throat. This was going to be a long process, as Draco didn’t want to choke her. “This is going to have to take a while. I don’t want to drown her.”

 

George chewed on his lip as he kept stroking Hermione’s forehead, his eyes never leaving her face. “I noticed you were using quite a few Muggle instruments. Why is that?”

 

Draco looked at the phial in his hand, swirling the contents around once more. “I, uh, I’d rather not talk about it, really.” Draco checked Granger’s mouth, making sure that her throat was clear, tipping some more of the potion past her lips. He could feel George’s eyes on him for once and it made him uncomfortable. He avoided looking into those hazel eyes across the bed from him.

 

“It has to do with what happened to Astoria, doesn’t it?” George asked.

 

Draco’s free hand gripped the duvet below him and squeezed. The hand holding the phial was shaking as his eyes closed. The gaping hole in his heart that had previously been filled by Astoria opened back up, making his chest ache. “Look, mate, I really don’t want to talk about it. I need to focus on Gra -- Hermione. If we start talking about Astoria, I will spiral down and not be able to do my job properly. But yes, it does.”

 

George nodded. “Got it, mate. I won’t ask again. I just worry about you. You haven’t been the same since. Even with the help from Healer Brownstone. The only thing that brings you out of your shell is Scorpius.”

 

Another check of Hermione’s throat had Draco tipping the last of the potion into her mouth. “That’s what losing your other half does to you, George. You, of all people, should know that. After all, you bottled up your emotions for years about Fred’s death and you still have trouble dealing with it. Alright, if this is going to work, it should take half an hour.”

 

They both sat in silence after that little heart to heart, grey and hazel trained on the woman with the curly hair lying in George’s bed. Draco found himself hoping that she hadn’t gone through what he and George had.

 

XxX

 

_September 19, 2000_

 

_It was her birthday today, and while it fell on a Tuesday, Tad had insisted that they celebrate somehow. So Hermione was on her way to his house. He lived about a mile away and she had contemplated Apparating, but didn't want to risk being caught. Even if she did know the area._

 

_Instead, she just huddled into her jumper and set up a brisk pace. She didn't even think to use a warming charm around herself. If she had still been in the magical world, it would have disconcerted her with how easily she had let her powers be moved to the back burner. But Hermione found it refreshing to do things the Muggle way._

 

_The only thing she used her magic for now were the wards around her house. Besides, she had to be careful around Tad. He couldn't know she was a witch. Not until they were engaged or married, if things headed that way. They had only been dating for three months, and a wonderful few months they had been._

 

_Tad never ceased to make her smile and laugh whenever they were together. He made Hermione forget all about what had happened during the war and the people who had died, at least for a little while. That was when she felt whole again._

 

_When she arrived at his house, she knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting for him to come and open it. After a couple of minutes, he hadn’t answered, so she rang the buzzer and that was when she heard the scuffling noises as he hurried to the door. The door opened wide and those blue eyes and that dazzling smile greeted Hermione, causing her heart to beat faster and her breath to catch._

 

_"Hello, beautiful, and happy birthday.” Tad leaned down and she thought he was going to kiss her cheek as he always did. They had been dating for three months and they'd yet to kiss or snog. So it surprised her when his thumb and forefinger gently gripped her chin and tilted her head back. He fit his lips over hers._

 

_Hermione’s knees went weak at the gentleness of the kiss and her hands moved to rest on his waist. When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers and grinned down at her. “I think that may have been the best birthday kiss I've ever received.”_

 

_Tad chuckled softly and took Hermione’s hand, leading her into his house. When the door was shut, the warm air surrounded her and she shivered at being suddenly enveloped. “You okay, babe?”_

 

_Hermione nodded at him and pulled her jumper off, revealing the almost sheer camisole underneath. She could feel Tad’s heated gaze and felt goosebumps rise all over her body. She'd never had a man look at her like that before--Muggle or wizard--and it made her feel strangely powerful._

 

_Sure, Ron had looked at her with a teenage lust at Hogwarts, but that was before Lavender had caught and held his fancy. Hell, even Harry had, and he’d actually followed through on his desires when they'd been on the run and Ron had left them. Being lonely and scared for your life could make you do some desperate things. They had never brought it up again, but neither of them had any regrets about it and it hadn’t made things awkward. If anything, it had brought Hermione and Harry closer to one another. But even he hadn’t looked at her the way Tad just had._

 

_"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just still a little chilly from the walk over. It smells wonderful in here. What is that smell?” she asked, walking further into the house, following the scents into the dining room where Tad had the table set up. Two place settings, close together. Two glasses of wine, candles lit, a bouquet of daisies, the whole nine yards. Hermione smiled wide at the display, “This is beautiful.”_

 

_“Only the best for my birthday girl.” Tad pulled out the chair meant for her, and Hermione walked over, taking the proffered seat. He helped to push her in, and she got comfortable, placing her linen napkin into her lap. Tad disappeared for a few moments, returning with a tray, laden with the side dishes. He set the first tray down and once again went into the kitchen to return with the entree._

 

_Hermione's olfactory system lit up at the scents of rosemary, garlic, and thyme, all mixed in with the smell of cooked meat. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, her mouth watering in response. “Is that rack of lamb?”_

 

_Tad’s deep rumble of a chuckle sounded as he set the platter down. “Yes, it is. You knew just by the smell?”_

 

_Hermione nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “It actually smells just like my mother’s. I didn't know you could cook.” She had to change the subject quick. Tad knew her parents were a sore subject for her, so he didn't push her on it and she was thankful for that._

 

_"My mum always had me in the kitchen with her when I was growing up. She wanted me ‘to be a well-rounded gentleman.’ So I cook, I clean, I do laundry.”_

 

_Hermione grinned at him, then put her hand over her heart and the other on her brow. “Oh help me, I may faint. You're just too perfect.” Tad just rolled his eyes at her and laughed as he served her food. The sides turned out to be rosemary potatoes and steamed broccoli._

 

_They talked over their meal as they ate, holding hands when they didn't need both of them. Hermione told Tad how school had been going since it had started last month and he told her about the training class he had been overseeing. When they were finished eating, Tad cleared away their dishes and brought out two cupcakes, one with a candle in it._

 

_Hermione laughed softly as he tilted the cupcake into the long candles and lit the birthday candle. Tad then set the cupcake in front of her and began to sing, loudly and off key, happy birthday to her. “Make a wish.” He told her when he finished. Hermione smiled at him then closed her eyes and thought really hard. With her wish firmly planted in her mind, she blew out her candle. Please, my wish is that no one else that I love dies any time soon._

 

XxX

 

At the sound of a rustling on the bed, both George and Draco looked up. Hermione was moving her hands, her lips were turned up into a slight smile and there were tears sliding from under her closed lids. But the movement passed and the smile faded, Hermione once again falling into a stillness that rivaled death.

 

“It's been an hour, Draco. That potion didn't work.” George said, his thumb swiping under Hermione’s eye closest to him.

 

Draco took care of the other eye, his hand lingering longer on her face than he normally would have. He just wished he could see what was going on in that complex mind of hers. The more time that passed, the more he was sure that this coma she was in was self-imposed. Albeit probably unconsciously, but she had put herself in it all the same, to avoid whatever had happened to her.

 

Draco looked at his watch, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I'll give her one more potion tonight. But I don't want to push her too much. And I need to get back to Scorpius. I promised I'd be back for bedtime.”

 

George nodded at him, clearly understanding. Draco turned back to the potions he had pulled from his bag. His fingers plucked the phial with the yellow potion inside. As he uncorked it, light refracted around the room, bringing the scent of sunshine on skin. He hoped like hell something worked.

 

Draco gave George a nod, and George held Hermione’s head back once again, his other hand forcing her jaw open. This potion was very thin and went down easily, all in one go. Draco dropped the empty phial into his bag and pulled out his stethoscope to check on her vitals once again. “We'll give this one thirty minutes as well.”

 

“They’re not going to work, are they?” George asked, the exasperation in his voice. He gently lifted Hermione’s hand and played with the rings there. “What happened to you, Hermione?"

 

Draco put away his instruments and sat quietly, his own hand reaching out of its own volition and lifting Hermione’s other hand into his lap. He stroked her fingers gently, his eyes taking in the scars on her hands. She had been through so much, they all had and this world just kept on throwing shite at them. They all deserved a little happiness.

 

Half an hour later, there were still no signs of Hermione waking and Draco clenched his jaw. He didn't know what to do. He knew that those potions weren't going to help, knew it deep down in his gut. He looked over at George with a sigh. “I really don't think the potions are going to work either, mate.”

 

George dropped his head, his forehead resting on their joined hands. “I knew it. Dammit, Draco. I don't want to just sit here and wait until she wakes up. I feel useless.”

 

“Honestly, I'd feel more comfortable if she were where I could keep an eye on her.” George looked up at him, an almost feral look in his eyes. His hand tightening on Hermione’s. “If she goes, I go.”

 

Draco nodded at George, a small smile on his face. “I know, mate. I was going to say that I wanted to move her to the manor and that you are coming with her. She came to you. If she wakes up, she needs to see you there. But you may want to post a sign on your shop that you'll be gone for a few.”

 

George calmed instantly, his tall frame relaxing as he sank back into his chair. “I should probably tell my mum I'll be gone for a few days as well. I'm actually surprised she hasn't beaten down the door looking for me.” He sighed and stood, leaning down to kiss Hermione’s forehead. “I'll be back. My owl’s in my shop.”

 

George left, leaving Draco with Hermione. When George had begun to get angry, Draco had stood, but now he sat back down and looked at Hermione, really looked at her. She had aged since he’d last seen her, but then again, so had he. And even though he shouldn't, he found himself comparing her to Astoria.

 

Hermione’s face was more full and heart-shaped, giving off a feeling of warmth, whereas Tori’s had been long and slender, always giving her a slightly angry look. Tori’s nose, like Draco’s, was straight as an arrow, where Hermione’s curved up at the end and looked like a button. Hermione’s skin glowed compared to Astoria’s pale skin. The freckles across her nose and cheeks only served to give Hermione an endearing quality Astoria had lacked. But both women were beautiful in their own way.

 

Before Draco could focus on Hermione’s lips, George had returned, his eyes focusing back on Hermione. “You're sure that it's a good idea to move her?”

 

Draco nodded, “I want her close. She's stable and I believe she'll stay that way, but even an apparition can take away precious seconds when they're needed most.” The pain in his voice was evident, but he couldn't hide it.

 

George bent to scoop Hermione from the bed, but Draco stopped him. “It's best if I carry her.” The redhead gave him an incredulous look and was about to argue when Draco cut him off. “I'm going to have to Side-Along you both through the wards. It's better if I hold her, to reduce the likelihood of splinching her. She doesn't need that on top of everything else.” That seemed to break through whatever irrationality George was seeing and he nodded.

 

Draco handed George his kit and then bent over, sliding one arm beneath Hermione’s shoulders, carefully adjusting her head and the other under her knees. When he curled his arms and cradled her against his chest, her head lolled and fell right into place. Hermione’s forehead rested against his neck, her breath tickling the collar of his shirt. Draco tried to ignore the feelings that were being stirred at having a woman in his arms again. But it was near impossible, especially when Hermione had one of her moments of semi-consciousness as he was coming to think of them, and draped her left arm around his neck.

 

Draco took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, but he only succeeded in getting a lungful of Hermione’s scent. Which did absolutely nothing to help him. Then an image of Astoria popped into his mind and he felt sick to his stomach, swallowing back the bile and guilt, he looked over at his other companion. “Alright, George. Grab my arm.” George did as he was told and Draco apparated them away.

 

They landed in the suite next to Draco and Scorpius’ exactly where Draco had pictured. He hadn’t wanted to risk Scorpius, or his mother, seeing Hermione. George rushed forward and pulled the covers back, and Draco laid Hermione out on the bed. “Fellie.”

 

The little elf popped in, bowing low in her pink frilly dress. “Yes, Master Draco?”

 

“This is George and Hermione. Hermione is a patient of mine. She is in a coma right now. If George calls you, you will come to him and bring him anything he requires. You will also tend to Hermione, make sure she is clean and cared for. But you will not tell your Mistress or Scorpius about her until I say so. Do you understand?”

 

Fellie bowed once again. “Yes, Master Draco. Shall I clean the Missus Hermione now?” Her luminous eyes darted to Hermione on the bed and her dirty clothes.

 

Draco nodded, glancing back at Hermione. He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke once again. “Yes, please bathe her and get her some clothes. You may see if any of Mistress...Astoria’s… old clothes will fit her.” Draco’s hand came up and rubbed at his sternum. His heart was simultaneously pounding behind his ribs and being squeezed in a vice at offering some of Tori’s clothing. George had looked at him sideways, but had said nothing.

 

“Come on, let's go and get us some food. I'm sure you haven't eaten. It'll give Hermione some privacy while Fellie cleans her up. Oh and Fellie, if she opens her eyes and speaks, come get me. Immediately.” The elf bowed in acknowledgement and returned to gathering what she would need. Draco led George away from the room, closing the door behind them.

 

They both felt the unease as soon as the door closed, separating them from Hermione. Draco didn't take them far, just next door to his suite. “If you need anything in the middle of the night, I'm in here. Second door down that hallway. Just be quiet when passing the first door. That's Scorp’s room.”

 

George nodded numbly and sat down in a chair by the fireplace. Draco poured them both a Firewhiskey and brought the glass tumblers over. George took a sip and closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly.

 

Draco called for one of the kitchen elves, ordering him to bring up whatever had been served for the evening meal. His grey eyes were studying the redhead across the way. He still hadn’t figured out exactly what Hermione meant to George. There was no matching ring on his finger, so Draco didn't think that they were married. Besides, George still lived at the Burrow.

 

The food arrived and they both dug in, not realizing how hungry they were. They had been so focused on Hermione that they hadn’t cared about themselves. Just after they finished eating, Fellie appeared, stating that Hermione was clean and still sleeping. Draco dismissed the elf with a wave and rubbed his hand over his face. “I had hoped that maybe a bath would rouse her.”

 

George looked over at him and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I'd kind of hoped the same thing. I’d better get back--"

 

The door to the suite flew open and they both turned to look, hoping against hope that it was Hermione. But the little blond-haired boy that bounded through was enough to break some of the levity of the day. “Daddy! You're home!”

 

Scorpius rushed over and climbed into Draco’s lap, his little arms winding around his father’s neck. Draco tucked his nose against the top of Scorpius’ head and inhaled. He had a unique scent that was all his own, as everyone did, but it was so similar to Astoria’s that Draco found himself doing this often. “Hey, buddy! I told you I would be home for bedtime. Look who I brought for a visit.”

 

His son then turned and looked in the chair opposite Draco’s that had its back to the door. A smile spread across Scorpius’ face when he spotted George. “Uncle Georgie!”

 

And just like that, his son had abandoned him in favor of the joker. But Draco didn't mind. He smiled as he watched Scorpius give George a hug, eliciting a smile from George. The two were thick as thieves. Draco often took Scorpius to the joke shop so the two could spend some time together. It had helped George get out of some of his darker days.

 

“Alright, buddy. It's bedtime,” Draco called, looking at his watch and starting a countdown from five in his head. Like clockwork the whining started. “Nope, you know how this works, buddy. Come on. Tell Uncle George goodnight.”

 

The lip wobble was next as he pleaded with George to talk some sense into his daddy. But George resisted Scorpius’ attempts. Draco chuckled and scooped his little progeny up, tickling his middle and carted him off to his room. As he placed the boy in his bed, he kissed his head again. Tonight, he seemed to need the scent of Astoria more than ever. He summoned the book they'd been reading from, a Muggle fairy tale about a beauty and a beast.

 

It didn't take long for the young boy to be out like a light and Draco left the room, pulling the door shut. He walked back into the living space and nodded at George. “Let's go and check on our girl.”

 

They left and walked down the wide hall to the suite next door once again. Draco opened the way and let George in first, following behind and closing the door. Hermione lay in the bed, her hair still damp and drying in soft curls. She was wearing one of Tori’s old night dresses, and it felt like Draco was being stabbed in the heart as he looked at the vision she presented before him. He would have to go and buy her some clothes of her own. He couldn't handle this.

 

Draco shook himself free and moved over to her, checking her over. No changes could be seen, except that she looked cleaner than before. But she was at least out of her dirty and tattered clothes. He summoned his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, checking her vitals. Everything was still stable, which he was grateful for, but this was just frustrating, not knowing how to wake her. “Everything is still stable. As I said, if you need me, come get me. Goodnight, George.”

 

He rose from the bed and walked for the door, as he was passing by, George’s arm shot out to grab him. Draco turned his head and caught the gaze of his friend. “Thank you, Draco."

 

Draco leaned in and rested his forehead against George’s, grey eyes staring into hazel once again. The two of them hadn’t been this close in a year. George’s hand slid from Draco’s forearm to grip his hand and Draco squeezed back. “She's going to wake up and we're going to be here when she does.”

 

They stood that way a moment longer, their eyelids sliding closed as their noses rubbed together. In a silent mutual agreement they both broke away and Draco returned to his rooms, now even more exhausted than he was before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh man, Blackians. This chapter was definitely an interesting one to write for me. But it gives us a little more insight into some past events. We’re slowly getting closer to finding out what is happening with Hermione. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer:  I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

Two hours. Draco had been tossing and turning in bed for two hours. His mind was churning and his thoughts were tumultuous. The close encounter with George had shaken him. He hadn’t had those feelings in close to six months. He hadn’t been that close to another adult in half a year, aside from his mother. He’d distanced himself from everyone because he’d gotten scared. He’d begun to open up to George while simultaneously having George open up to him. It was his first run as a therapist and grief counselor, and he had made many errors that he hadn’t had the experience to know not to make.

 

He knew better now, of course. But that didn’t stop him from falling right back into the web that he and George had created. Draco threw the covers off his body and sat up in the bed with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the blond locks. The sooner Hermione woke up, the sooner George went back to his own house, the better off Draco would be.

 

Draco swung his feet off of the bed, placing them flat on the cold floor. If he couldn’t sleep, he may as well go and check on Hermione. As Draco stood, he adjusted his boxers and pulled on his robe, tying the sash. He left his room, pausing by Scorpius’ room, carefully twisting the handle. A sliver of light speared into the room, landing across the foot of the bed, illuminating the room enough to allow Draco to see his son sleeping peacefully in his bed.

 

Scorpius was sprawled out across the twin sized mattress, taking up as much space as his tiny body could manage. Draco smiled as he watched his little chest rise and fall for a few moments, before closing the door carefully and quietly. He moved through the suite, summoning his bag to him as he got to the door. Out in the hallway, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He knew that he was going to have to prepare himself to see Hermione wearing Tori’s old night dress.

 

Draco opened the door to the suite George and Hermione were in and the sight that greeted him sent a strange sort of jealousy through him. George was on the bed with Hermione, his arm under her head, cradling it gently as he stroked her hair. He was talking quietly to Hermione, almost whispering into her ear. Draco couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but he felt like he was intruding, so he cleared his throat.

 

George looked up, his eyes red and exhausted, but he smiled tiredly at Draco. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

 

“No, I just tossed and turned, so I decided to come and check on Hermione. No changes?” George shook his head, carefully extracting his arm from under Hermione’s head, and sat up. Draco walked over, brushing his hand across her forehead, checking her temperature and brushing her hair back.

 

Draco could feel no fever. Hermione wasn’t sweating and her face was calm, not betraying any signs of pain. He opened his bag and withdrew his equipment, putting the cuff around Hermione’s slender arm. He puffed it up, checking her blood pressure. Everything had remained stable throughout this whole ordeal, which was promising for Hermione. “We should probably try some more potions now, since we’re both awake.” George nodded and Draco dug into his bag for the potions once more.

 

When Draco held up a purple one, George tilted Hermione’s head back in preparation, but Draco shook his head. “No, this one is mostly vapor. She needs to inhale it. So we need to hold our breath.” George nodded, releasing Hermione’s head and leaning back, at Draco’s nod they both took a deep breath and held it.

 

Draco watched as the vapor disappeared into Hermione’s mouth and nose as she inhaled. He found himself once again drawn into the hope that maybe this time, she would wake up.

 

XxX

 

_February 14, 2001_

 

_Valentine’s Day. The day Hermione had dreaded the most all her life was here and she couldn’t be more excited for it for once in her life. She had slipped into a little red dress and matching heels, dressing every bit the part. For the first time in the last few years, she had used magic to tame her hair into a sleek style._

 

_Hermione had mostly applied light makeup, but she put on a daring red lipstick to match the dress and painted her nails black, using a quick spell to get them to dry quickly._

 

_Tad was due any moment and Hermione had begun to get nervous. This was a big night for them. They had been dating for eight months now and had finally decided to take things to the next level. It was a big step for Hermione and for Tad as well. They had both had lengthy conversations about their past sex lives, revealing how many lovers they had each had. Much to Hermione’s surprise, they had each had two._

 

_When she entered the den, she looked around the room. There were pictures of her parents around, but they had dwindled over the years, having been replaced with pictures of Harry, Ron and the Weasleys throughout her Hogwarts years. Now, there were photos of her and Tad as well. When she and Tad had talked about their past sexual encounters, his head had tilted at the mention of Harry. They had talked briefly about him before and so it had surprised him that Hermione had slept with her best friend._

 

_It was funny, though, to see the look of confusion on his face when Hermione had said she’d slept with her best friend's brother. She’d said it so off-handed that she didn’t think about how it would have been perceived. Hermione had quickly clarified however, that she’d meant her other best friend's brother. George had been her first. They had grown close over the summer, after fourth year.. In her fifth year, she had lost her virginity to him. They’d dated for most of the year until the debacle at the Department of Mysteries._

 

_The knock on her door brought her out of her reverie and she moved to the front door to open it. Tad stood on the other side, a dozen roses in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hi, babe. You look stunning, as usual.” He leaned in for a kiss, lips lingering, sucking and pulling at hers._

 

_Hermione wanted to give in right there, but Tad had said he’d made them reservations at The Torrid. It was a brand new restaurant and she was surprised he'd been able to get the reservations at the last minute. Hermione took the roses from him and brought the red, velvety buds to her nose and inhaled slowly. The scent intoxicated her, filling her lungs and leaving on a slow breath as she exhaled. “I'm going to go and put these in a vase. I'll be right back.”_

 

_She left him in the den and went to do exactly as she’d said. When she was finished, she returned to Tad with a smile. “Alright, let's get going. We don't want to be late.”_

 

_An hour and a half later, they were in the restaurant finishing their meals. Hermione was beginning to get full, so she pushed her plate away. She had heard that the tiramisu was to die for, and she just had to have some. Hermione looked across the dimly lit table at Tad with a smile. He returned her glance with a smile of his own, pushing the plate in front of him away. “Dessert time?” He asked._

 

_Hermione nodded her head, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “I do believe it is. I'm going to have that tiramisu, what are you going to have?”_

 

_"I believe I'll have the same.” Tad answered quietly as he summoned the server._

 

_Hermione began to stand from her seat with a grin. “Well order for me then. I need to run and powder my nose. I'll be right back, honey.” She leaned down and gave Tad a gentle kiss and left the table to go find the restrooms._

 

_When she returned to the table, their dessert was awaiting her and Tad was smiling up at her. Hermione resumed her seat and crossed her legs under the table. She picked up her fork and began to eat her dessert quietly, aware that Tad was watching her as he ate his. She blushed, her fork halfway to her mouth, “What?”_

 

_“Just admiring how beautiful you look in the candlelight, babe.” Tad answered her, taking another bite of his dessert. Hermione grinned back at him and brought the fork past her lips. She closed her eyes in satisfaction as the flavors of the tiramisu hit her tongue. When she went back for the second bite, her eyes were still closed. Her fork made an odd clinking sound on the plate and she opened her eyes to find a large diamond poking out from under her dessert and Tad on one knee._

 

_Hermione’s eyes began to fill with tears as Tad removed the plastic wrapped ring from the plate and unwrapped it, holding it up for Hermione to see. “Hermione Jean Granger, these last eight months have been eye-opening for me. I am a military man through and through. I never thought I would find someone I would fall in love with, let alone want to marry. I thought I would be married to my post for the rest of my life. But you are an amazing woman and I can’t think of anything better than spending the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”_

 

_Awestruck, she was clueless as to how to answer, so she just nodded her head with a huge smile on her face. Tad’s answering smile was just as wide as he slid the ring on her finger and leaned up to kiss her gently, cradling her face in his hands. It was a special night indeed and it was only going to become more so. Tad called for the check and paid for their meal in a hurry to get back to Hermione’s house._

 

XxX

 

George looked at the frustrated blond across the way, his hair sticking out at odd angles from his fingers having made multiple passes through it. It was now half past three in the morning and none of the potions they had tried had worked to wake Hermione. Draco was beginning to lose faith in himself and George couldn’t stand it. He rose from the bed and walked around to the other side. George ran his hand through Draco’s hair, gripping the platinum locks and tilting the other man's head back. “You stop that now.”

 

Draco exhaled a sigh, his grey eyes filled with torment and disappointment. “I feel as if I’ve failed her, George. Nothing that I’ve done has worked. The human body can only last so long without food and water. Magical coma or not. She can’t die, too. I couldn’t save Tori, I can’t lose her, too.” His voice broke at the end and George felt his heart squeeze in his chest at the thought of losing Hermione. They hadn’t dated in years and years, but he still cared deeply for her. And from the looks of it, losing Hermione would destroy Draco as well.

 

George used his leg to spread Draco’s apart and step between them, stepping closer to Draco. He bent his body over, his forehead resting against his former lover’s as they locked eyes. “You said it yourself, though. If she’s put herself into this coma, whether consciously or not, it is up to her to wake herself up. Wait, what about Legilimency? Snape taught you Occlumency and Legilimency. What if you try it on her, to see if we can get an idea on why she is in this coma? Maybe then you could brew a potion that would be tailored to her specific needs?”

 

Those grey eyes widened and Draco leaned up, his lips meeting George’s in a kiss. It was a fleeting kiss, but it was enough to simultaneously reignite old feelings and create an air of awkwardness in the room around them. George instantly backed away from Draco, who cleared his throat and averted his eyes to Hermione. “You’re a fucking genius, George.”

 

Draco’s skills in Legilimency were so great that they rivaled that of Voldemort’s before he had been defeated. He didn’t need his wand or to say the incantation aloud for the spell to work. He didn't even need eye contact. George had always been in awe of his talent and sat back and watched now as Draco leaned over Hermione, placing his fingers on her temples. Those shoulders of his lifted as his chest expanded with a deep breath. George could see Draco’s jaw tightening as he concentrated and it didn’t seem to be a good sign.

 

After five minutes had gone by, a sweat had broken out on Draco’s brow, but he hadn’t given up on Hermione yet. When ten minutes had gone by without any sign of Draco relenting, George walked over and pulled him away. A tortured gasp pulled from his lips as his lids flew open, “What the bloody hell did you do that for?”

 

“You weren’t getting anywhere and you bloody well know it. Any longer and you would have passed out on her. Then what good would you have done?” George looked at Draco and shook his head. The wizard was even more pale than normal, sweat rivulets running down his temples, his hair damp. Just attempting Legilimency on her had exhausted him. Draco was swaying,  trying to maintain his upright position on the bed. “Lay down before you fall off onto the fucking floor,” George said, sighing quietly as he pushed Draco down next to Hermione.

 

No sooner than that blond head hit the pillow next to the bushy brown hair, Draco’s grey eyes rolled back into his head. George went into the bathroom to retrieve a damp washcloth, returning to wipe the sweat away from Draco’s face and throat. He then moved to the foot of the bed to watch as two of the people he cared most for slept next to each other. He had to admit, they would make a lovely pair. George brought his fingers up to his lips, they were still tingling from the feel of Draco’s lips. While he had dreamt of Draco the last six months since they had called things off, that kiss had sealed their fate. Whatever had been between them was in the past. Sure, the sparks were still there, but he could tell it was something neither of them wanted to pursue.

 

As for Hermione, what they had in fifth year had been profound for both of them, an experience neither of them would forget. They were each other's first lovers and it had been fun learning what they each liked. He had always hoped in the back of his mind that one day he and Hermione might try again. But the Department of Mysteries had changed her, Sirius’ death had changed her. The war had altered them both.

 

George shook himself free of that downward spiral and focused on the here and now once again. What Draco had said was true. The human body could only last so long without food and water. George hoped like mad that Hermione woke up before that happened. They could dribble water down her throat, but food--that was another story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, Blackians! This was by far, the hardest chapter to write up until now. I hope that this chapter holds up to previous chapters. Most of you have asked multiple times if this was going to be a triad. For a while, I didn’t know. But our lovely characters have decided that it will not be a triad. So to make up for the disappointment, this chapter holds a flashback that is different from what we’ve seen so far. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original plot and characters made up for this story. JK rules all.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

When Draco awoke some hours later, the sun was just starting to rise on the horizon and he was almost wrapped around Hermione’s seemingly lifeless body. His fingers were intertwined with someone else’s and when he lifted his head to look, George was lying on Hermione’s opposite side, cradling her in much the same way as Draco, and it was George’s fingers that were woven between his.

 

Draco sighed quietly and slowly extracted his fingers from George’s. The redhead snorted loudly before quieting back down and slipping back into a deep sleep. Draco sat up and looked down at Hermione. He could tell right away that her condition hadn't changed. She was still stable and another check of her vitals would be useless.

 

He needed to go and check on Scorpius anyway. The boy was Draco’s own alarm clock--his son didn't know what the phrase “lie in” meant.

 

Draco rose from the bed and exited the room, moving back to his suite of rooms. Once inside, his first stop was to check on Scorpius, who was beginning to stir on the bed. Draco left him to wake up and went to his room to shower and change clothes. The whole affair took only ten minutes and by that time, Scorpius was awake and bursting into Draco’s room. “Morning, Daddy!”

 

“Good morning, son.” Draco chuckled as he picked his son up and kissed him all over his face. Scorpius giggled and tried to push Draco’s head away, but Draco persisted until he pulled back of his own accord.

 

“Zoo! Zoo!” Scorpius shouted in Draco’s face, his little hands cupping Draco’s cheeks.

 

Draco laughed softly as he looked into those blue eyes. “Is Grammy taking you to the zoo today?” Scorpius nodded, the excitement sparkling in those navy irises. “Well, I guess we’d better dress you in your best safari clothes then!” He set Scorpius down on the counter and gave him his toothbrush. “But first you have to get those chompers clean for me, okay buddy?”

 

Scorpius started to brush vigorously, humming an uptempo song as he brushed. Draco chuckled softly as he moved to brush his own teeth. It was a habit he picked up from Granger in their Hogwarts days, when he’d learned that her parents were Muggle dentists. He’d gotten curious and wanted to know what they really did in Muggle dentist offices. Ever since then, he’d been brushing his teeth and he’d instilled the habit in his son.

 

“Done, Daddy!” Draco rinsed his own mouth as Scorpius did the same, toothpaste running down his chin. Draco wiped his mouth for him and smiled.

 

“Good job, buddy. Let’s go and get you dressed.” Draco lifted Scorpius onto his shoulders and carried him back to his room. He set him on the floor and walked over to his closet, opening the doors wide. “Now, where did we put your safari clothes? Ah! Here they are!”

 

Draco came out of the closet with Scorpius’ favorite outfit to wear to the zoo. It was a pair of khaki cargo trousers and a matching top, because he wanted to look just like that Steve Irwin guy that Draco’s mum let him watch on the Muggle telly Draco had installed. Scorpius was obsessed with animals, be they Muggle or magical. It made Draco think of putting him in a school later that focused on animals.

 

Once Scorpius was dressed, Draco took him downstairs to the breakfast room to find his mother already there waiting. “Good morning, mum.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek, Scorpius doing the same. Draco sat Scorpius into his booster and took his own seat beside his mother. The elves showed up to fill everyone’s plates and Draco started to eat. He was trying not to rush through his meal, but was having a hard time controlling himself.

 

“Grammy, Uncle Georgie is here.” Draco ground his teeth together, he knew the questions that would inevitably follow from his mother.

 

“Is he now? That must have been exciting for you to see him, Scorp. If you’re finished eating, why don’t you go and play with your train set until time to go.” Scorpius wiggled down from his booster and left for the playroom. As soon as he was out of hearing range, his mother started in. “You and George aren’t starting in again are you? Draco, dear, that nearly destroyed you last time. It was so soon after Astoria.”

 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed softly, “No, Mum. He just needed a place to stay for a few days, away from his family home. This anniversary is hard on him. I told him that he could stay here for as long as he needs. He’s staying in the suite I provided him. Mum, please don’t go and look for him. If he wants to venture out, he will.”

 

Narcissa raised her hands in surrender, “Okay, Draco, okay. I will not seek him out. I just don’t want you to get hurt again. I hate seeing the way you draw into yourself. But I will leave it alone, you are a grown man, able to make your own choices.”

 

“Thank you, Mum. I’m going to go say goodbye to Scorpius, have fun at the zoo.” Draco rose from the table and kissed his mother on the head. She said no more to him, but continued to sip her tea, her eyes watching him as he left the room. Draco went into the playroom, watching Scorpius playing with his building blocks. “Hey buddy, I’ve come to say goodbye to you before you leave for the zoo.”

 

Scorpius jumped up and ran over to Draco with a grin. “Bye Daddy!”

 

Draco picked him up and gave him a kiss. “You have fun with Grammy, buddy. Tell me all about it when you come home, okay?” Scorpius nodded, his hair falling into his eyes when he did, his tiny hands pushing it from his eyes.

 

Draco set his son down and kissed him on the head once again before leaving the room. When he got back to his floor, he looked in on Hermione and George. Both of them were still sleeping, so Draco moved into the room and sat down in a chair across the way. Hermione’s chest rose and fell evenly, her eyes moving behind her closed lids. Draco wondered for the millionth time when she was going to wake up. His grey eyes fell on the flames in the fireplace and the world faded away.

 

_Their first counseling session had ended, but Draco and George still sat in his office at St. Mungo’s. It had been Draco’s first ever counseling session as a therapist and to say he had been nervous would have been an understatement. His palms had been sweaty, his hands shaky, and his heart had been pounding. Of all patients to have been his first, it had to have been George Weasley. His brother's death was the one death that had hit Draco the hardest. Not only that, after only having lost Astoria a year ago, he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle trying to help someone else through their grief._

 

_But surprisingly, it went better than he’d expected. Draco had been able to separate his personal life from his professional life. At the end of the session, George had seemed lighter, happier even and that is what Draco had wanted to see when he’d decided to branch off into this branch of medicine._

 

_“Would you like to go get some tea? Or coffee? If you’d prefer?” George asked, sounding unsure of himself. “I’m still feeling raw and exposed. I really don’t think I could handle being around my family right now.”_

 

_Draco knew he shouldn’t, that it was probably breaking all sorts of doctor and patient relationship rules, but he knew exactly what George was feeling. Opening up about the death of a loved one, someone who was your other half, was not an easy thing to do. No matter how much time had passed. “That sounds great. There’s a great little cafe just around the corner.”_

 

_Both wizards stood, Draco buttoned his suit jacket and moved around his desk. He lead the way to the office door, opening the tall panel, allowing George to step through first. They strolled through the halls of St. Mungo’s making small talk, trying to move out of therapist/patient territory and into former schoolmate territory._

 

_Out in the open air, it was easier for them both to breathe and feel more at peace. “It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?” George asked._

 

_Draco chuckled softly as he looked at the dreary gray skies. “Well, I guess it could be worse. Here we are.” He held the door open for George once again and let the wizard walk in past him. George went straight for the order line and Draco followed. They both ordered and found a table outside, situated away from everyone else. When they were seated with their tea, Draco looked across at George, his grey eyes measuring him. Out of all of his brothers, aside from possibly Charlie--whom Draco had never seen--George was the best looking._

 

_Draco frowned and looked away from George. The thought that had flickered through his mind was foreign. Sure, he looked at other men every now and then and compared himself to them. But this thought had been different. He hadn’t looked at him through a skeptic’s eyes, but through a potential lover’s eyes. That was what had freaked Draco out the most in the moment. He’d never had any proclivities toward members of his own sex, but that seemed to have changed just a moment ago. At least for the brief second it took for the thought to flash in his mind._

 

_“Draco?” George’s voice brought him back to the present and he looked back over, realizing that George must have asked him a question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Draco asked, his attention returning to George with a smile._

 

 _“I asked how_ you  _were doing since Astoria’s passing.” George took a sip of his tea, his hazel eyes shrewd as he looked for minute gestures in Draco’s face and neck. Draco wasn’t used to being surveyed by anyone else, other than his own therapist. It was unnerving to say the least. And while the question opened up a chasm in his chest, he decided to answer earnestly._

 

_Draco cleared his throat and sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Honestly? I’m struggling. The only thing that really keeps me grounded is my son and he is a little handful at the moment. I’m so thankful for my mum, she’s been so much help with Scorpius. While he helps me, the absence of Astoria--there are days where the pain threatens to overwhelm me.”_

 

_George nodded, taking another sip of his tea as his eyes wandered the streets for a moment. “I understand that feeling, completely. If you ever need someone to talk to someone, someone that isn’t your therapist, mother or son, you can always contact me at the shop or the Burrow.”_

 

_The tea in his cup was warming Draco’s hands as he held it, he took a sip as he played over George’s words in his mind. He should have said the professional thing, that any relationship outside of doctor and patient was a bad idea. But he just gave George a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”_

 

A groan from the bed brought Draco’s mind back into the present and he lifted his head that had fallen to his chest. George was stretching his body as he sat up on the bed, his eyes immediately turning to look at Hermione, checking on her.

 

“There’s been no change.” Draco called quietly, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. George turned his head toward Draco and Draco gave him a smile. “Morning. How about I call Fellie up here to get you something to eat? And maybe we can get some broth for Hermione and tip it down her throat.”

 

George nodded, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Breakfast sounds great. We should definitely try to get Hermione some nutrition into her system.” George turned his head to look down at Hermione again, watching her chest rise and fall. He stood from the bed and Draco watched him carefully, analyzing him, admiring George. His earlier stroll down memory lane was messing with his feelings.

 

“Fellie.” Draco called, the elf appearing with a pop.

 

“Yes, Master Draco?” she asked, bowing low, her long pointed nose brushing the floor. “I need you to prepare a breakfast for George, the full works, as well as some broth for Miss Granger. But only heat it to lukewarm, I do not want to burn her throat.” Draco said, rising from his chair and walking over to the bed. He brushed his palm across her cheek, his thumb trailing just under her eye, watching as her head turned into his hand. There was something of Hermione in there, but what was she reacting to?

 

“Yes, Master Draco.” Fellie disappeared with a pop and Draco was alone with Hermione and George once again.

 

“Did you see anything when you used Legilimens on her?” George asked, his fingers playing with her hair. The action was almost intimate and it made Draco wonder again what exactly had happened between George and Hermione.

 

Draco frowned as he pulled his hand back, taking Hermione’s hand in his as his eyes focused on her face. “Just flashes of her life, nothing concrete or long enough for me to make sense of. Just some anonymous guy in her memories. I never saw his face or got his name. Only that he was important to her. But you were right, I was exhausted. Maybe once we get some broth down her, I can try again.”

 

George nodded his head, standing from the bed and left for the loo. Draco watched him go, his eyes lingering until the door shut. Then he turned to look at Hermione once more, his eyes studying her. The longer she was here, the more comfortable he was in her presence, even if she was unconscious.

 

Fellie popped back into the room, levitating the tray of food to the desk in the corner. “Breakfast for Master George and Mistress Hermione, Master Draco. Do you need Fellie for more?”

 

“No Fellie, that will be all. Thank you.” The elf bowed and left with another pop. George came out of the loo, drying his face on a hand towel. “Breakfast is here.”

 

George looked over at Hermione on the bed. “Let’s feed her first.”

 

Draco nodded, his eyes falling back to Hermione. “That's a good idea.” He summoned the bowl of broth and transfigured it into a teapot with a spout, to make it easier to pour into Hermione’s mouth. “Here, hold this.” He handed the teapot over to George and levitated Hermione’s torso up off the bed. Draco then maneuvered himself behind her, his legs cradling her body as he let her back fall against his chest.

 

Draco’s eyes caught with George’s and there was a far off look in the hazel depths. Draco positioned Hermione’s head on his shoulder and held her jaw open. “Okay, George, slowly pour some into her mouth.” This close to Hermione, he could smell her natural scent--sandalwood and vanilla. It was so different from Astoria’s, but yet so alike in the way it burrowed into his lungs and stayed there.

 

George moved forward and did as Draco said, slowly pouring the clear liquid down Hermione’s throat, and Draco felt her esophagus contract as she moved to swallow the nourishment. Grey eyes met hazel and Draco spoke. “This may be easier than we thought.” George nodded, tipping more of the warm broth down Hermione’s open mouth. “George?”

 

“Hmm?” George hummed, looking up at Draco.

 

Draco felt Hermione’s throat working as she swallowed once again and he worked up his courage to ask George what was on his mind. “Have you and Hermione ever--” The look on George’s face stalled Draco’s question. It told him everything, but he still wanted to know.

 

Those hazel eyes Draco knew so well dropped to look down at Hermione and tip some more broth into her open mouth. “My sixth year, your fifth. It actually started in the summer, while we were all cooped up in Grimmauld Place. She was my first, I was hers.”

 

Draco felt his jaw tightening, for what reason, he couldn’t determine. Was it jealousy? Most likely. But was he jealous of George sleeping with Hermione or vice versa? He turned his nose into Hermione’s hair and inhaled, her sandalwood and vanilla scent filling his lungs and calming him. “What ended it?”

 

“That was the year she, Harry and the others went into the Department of Mysteries. After that, after Sirius died, she was closed off and distant. Things just died off. It ended on good terms, I always thought we might would try again. But then the war happened, Fred died, and she disappeared into the Muggle world.” George shrugged, checking Hermione’s mouth to make sure it was clear before tipping more in.

 

A frown creased Draco’s brow. After Hermione swallowed, he adjusted her against his body, letting George’s words hang in the silence. He wondered if George would still seek to rekindle his relationship with Hermione after she woke up.

 

Draco refused to think the words if she woke up.

 

The silence drug on and eventually they finished giving Hermione all of the broth. Draco remained where he was, cradling Hermione, wanting to give her ample time to digest the broth so that she did not aspirate when he laid her back down. The one thing they didn’t need was for the liquid they had poured down her to come back up and get into her lungs. George left the bed and went to eat his own breakfast, studiously ignoring Draco and Hermione on the bed.

 

Draco could feel the awkwardness in the air and was unsure what to do about it. It seemed that George could feel it too and was just as clueless as he was, until George spoke up, his eyes never leaving the view of the back gardens. “But the way I see it, if she had wanted to give our relationship another try, she knew where I was living. She obviously didn’t, she melted into the Muggle world and married someone else.”

 

Draco didn’t know why, but he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest when George spoke. Nor did he want to look too closely at it. What they needed to focus on right now was the woman lying in the cradle of his body right now. Hermione Granger was the most important thing to him right now, second only to Scorpius.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi my Blackians! I hope that you are having a good summer so far, for those of you that it is summer time. My wonderful beta, Frogster, told me that this may be her favorite chapter of this story yet. If you remember, in Hermione’s last flashback she got engaged, well, what comes after engagement? Marriage, right. I found the wedding ceremony that I used, here under the name of Ann and Dana. I changed things up a bit in my formatting this time. Usually I put the memories in the middle. Well, this time I put one at the beginning. No more babbling from me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, just the plot that deviates from the original story.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

_May 19, 2001_

_“Babe, are you ready to go?” Tad called up the stairs as Hermione was putting on her shoes._

_“Almost!” she called back, fastening the clasp on her sandal. Hermione stopped, looking herself over in the floor-length mirror. The simple white dress she had on was one that had been left over from her teenage years--even though those weren’t that far behind her. She had left her hair down in loose curls, because that was how Tad liked it. Her makeup was light as was the perfume she had put on._

_Today was the biggest day of her life. She and Tad were going to get married. Granted, it wasn’t her dream wedding like she had been planning since she was six. Neither of them had any family near to attend, so they had decided to just go down to the registry office with a witness and a registrar._

_Hermione descended the stairs, smiling at Tad, who was waiting at the bottom. “Well, don’t you look handsome?” she met his outstretched hand with hers and stepped off the last few stairs. “I’m ready if you are.”_

_Tad led her to the front door and opened it for her. He took out his keys and slid the house key she had given him into the lock. Tad had slowly been moving his things in over the last three months since the engagement. They had decided to move into Hermione’s house, seeing as it was paid for._

_Hermione walked down to the car as Tad locked the front door. Hermione got into the car and buckled her seatbelt, watching as her future husband walked around the front of the car. When he got in, she smiled over at him._

_An hour later they were at the registry office, waiting to be called back. Hermione was feeling a little nervous, her palms sweating; her knee was bouncing as they sat in their plastic chairs. “Wallace? Granger?”_

_A little squeak slid free of Hermione’s lips as their names were called and she jumped up, straightening her dress. She heard Tad chuckle from behind her as he stood, his hand moving to rest on her lower back. “Relax, babe.”_

_Tad was right, she should relax. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days in a woman’s life. But she couldn’t help the feelings of melancholy that washed over her. Hermione had always imagined her parents at her side, and Harry and Ron as well. That wasn’t an option now. Sure, if she owled them, they would come. But they wouldn’t understand and she wasn’t sure she would have the energy to explain. Because she would have to explain everything, not just why she was marrying Tad._

_“That’ll be us.” Tad said as they walked up to the woman._

_“Welcome. I am Edith, I’ll be your witness for today. If you’ll follow me, Registrar Holland is ready for you.” Edith said with a genuine smile and took off down the narrow hallway. They followed their witness, Tad’s hand on Hermione’s back comforting her._

_Edith opened a door at the end of the hallway, a small room on the other side of the wooden panel. Hermione stepped through the doorway, her eyes taking in the room and falling on the registrar standing behind the podium. The old man was short and squat, with a bald head and big round glasses. His big bushy mustache reminded her of what Harry described his uncle to look like. “Come in, come in. Let's get started.”_

_Edith shut the door behind Tad as he came in and the three of them walked to the front of the room. The young woman then came around and positioned Tad where she wanted him and moved to do the same to Hermione, a strand of her white blonde hair getting in Hermione’s face. Hermione batted it away, making a fluttering noise with her mouth. The color of Edith’s hair suddenly stirred up a memory of another person with hair that color. A tall and slender boy with an aristocratic face and perfectly pointed nose._

_Hermione shook the image of Draco from her mind and brought herself back to the present when the registrar cleared his throat. “Everyone ready? Yes, Miss Granger? Yes, Mr. Wallace? Edith?”_

_Each of them nodded when addressed and Registrar Holland began. “Please join hands. Today we are here to celebrate the joining of these two individuals in the friendship, loyalty and love of marriage._

_“Hermione, will you have Thaddeus as your husband, in times of good fortune as well as adversity, forsaking all others to be a kind and faithful wife? Do you promise to base your life with Thaddeus on love, caring and understanding? Do you pledge to speak and listen, to give and receive, and to be considerate of his wishes and desires?”_

_Registrar Holland looked at Hermione and she turned her eyes from him to look up at Tad, smiling brightly as she answered, “I do.”_

_The old man made a grunt of acknowledgement before continuing. “Thaddeus, will you have Hermione as your wife, in times of good fortune as well as adversity, forsaking all others to be a kind and faithful husband? Do you promise to base your life with Hermione on love, caring and understanding? Do you pledge to speak and listen, to give and receive, and to be considerate of her wishes and desires?”_

_Tad’s eyes had never left hers as he gave her hands a squeeze. “I do.”_

_They both turned to look at the registrar then, waiting for what was next. In a very un-Hermione-like gesture, they had chosen to forego writing their own vows. “Hermione, please repeat after me.”_

_As the pudgy man brokenly repeated the vows, Hermione followed, stringing them together seamlessly. “We have come together to make a marriage of our true friendship and love. We shall share with each other in gladness, strengthen each other in labor, minister to each other in sorrow, and be one with each other in the memories of life. We shall make a home in the place where we dwell and there we shall gather wisdom from the seasons of life._

_“I, Hermione, take you Thaddeus, to be my husband. I accept you as you are, and ask that you be nobody but yourself. I promise to love you from this day forward and for all the days of our lives.” Hermione’s eyes were glistening with tears as she looked up at Tad. They were lost in each other, barely aware of the other two people present in the room._

_Registrar Holland wiped his sweaty brow on a handkerchief and spoke again. “Thaddeus, if you will repeat after me.”_

_Tad brought Hermione’s hand up to his lips for a kiss and then began to repeat what the judge was reciting. “We have come together to make a marriage of our true friendship and love. We shall share with each other in gladness, strengthen each other in labor, minister to each other in sorrow, and be one with each other in the memories of life. We shall make a home in the place where we dwell and there we shall gather wisdom from the seasons of life._

_“I, Thaddeus, take you Hermione, to be my wife. I accept you as you are, and ask that you be nobody but yourself. I promise to love you from this day forward and for all the days of our lives.”_

_Hermione’s heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. The registrar’s voice barely registered. “The rings you are about to exchange mark the beginning of a long journey together. They are also a symbol of infinity, time without end. Let your rings be a reminder of your union, and of the love that you share. As a ring is unbroken, so will your love for each other be without end. Hermione, as you place the ring on Thaddeus’ finger, please repeat after me.”_

_Hermione pulled the ring from her thumb and took a deep breath to try and steady the nerves that had cropped up again. “The words I say to you now are words I say in friendship, respect, and love. I see in you a strong, growing partner, the person with whom I wish to share my life. I offer you all the days before me, no matter what may come our way. I freely take you as my husband. Take this ring as a symbol of my commitment.”_

_She slid the ring onto his left ring finger, working the band over his knuckle. Hermione smoothed her thumb over the cool metal with a smile. This was it, it was almost official. “Thaddeus, if you'll repeat after me.”_

_Tad grinned down at Hermione and repeated exactly what she had just said. As he slid the band on Hermione’s finger, her breath hitched.  “The words I say to you now are words I say in friendship, respect, and love. I see in you a strong, growing partner, the person with whom I wish to share my life. I offer you all the days before me, no matter what may come our way. I freely take you as my wife. Take this ring as a symbol of my commitment.”_

_Hermione linked her fingers with Tad’s, losing herself in his Pacific blue eyes as the registrar continued with the ceremony. His voice almost nothing but background noise. “Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth. In the years ahead, may you always apply tenderness and strength to the trials that may befall you. May your love be a shield from the unpredictability of life.  May you remember to rejoice in good times and good fortune and may you always appreciate the life that you found with each other. And now, I am happy to pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations Mr and Mrs. Wallace. You may kiss your bride.” The registrar finished and began clapping Edith joining him._

_Tad pulled Hermione into him, his lips crashing down onto hers and moving against her own passionately. Hermione's hands came up to cradle his head, against hers. For Heaven’s sake did she love this man._

XxX

“DRACO!” George screamed at the top of his lungs from the bed next to Hermione, attempting to hold her flailing body still and keep her from seizing her way right off of the bed. “DAMMIT DRACO! GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE!”

At that moment the door slammed open and Draco ran in, “What’s goi-” The question died on his lips as he saw Hermione thrashing on the bed. “Turn her on her side and support her head, but don’t hold her down. That could only hurt both her and you.” He made it over to the bed, his wand out and by his side, but at the ready.

“Don’t hold her down?” But what if she goes right off the bed?” George asked incredulously.

Draco raised his wand and shook his head, “I would never let her fall. We just have to let her go through it. There is no way we could hold her still enough to get an anti-seizure potion down her throat. Petrificus would only hurt her as well.”

George wasn’t so sure, but Draco was the Healer, so he let go of Hermione and helped Draco turn her on her side, placing a pillow under her head. “Why is she seizing?”

Those grey eyes never left Hermione, a worried look marring those handsome, aristocratic features. “I don't know, George. To be honest, she could be having a memory and it could be traumatic. Perhaps that's what's-" Draco trailed off once more and sat down on the bed, putting his finger to Hermione’s exposed temple. His eyelids slid closed as he delved into her mind.

This time George could see the instant connection, as Draco’s body seemed to jerk to attention, as if he had an electrical current hit him. Those eyes moving underneath closed lids, George could do nothing but switch his gaze back and forth between both of his former lovers.

After nearly ten minutes, Hermione’s body jerked so violently, it left the bed in its entirety, her arms flailing and knocking Draco back from her, the blond falling off the bed onto his arse with a loud gasp. Draco jumped off the floor instantly, his breathing heavy as both he and George looked at the now still Hermione.

Draco bent double, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. It couldn't have been easy on him to have been ripped from Legilimency twice in as many days. When he had finally regained his composure, he returned to his spot on the bed next to Hermione, his hand capturing hers, toying with the wedding rings on her finger. “She was reliving her wedding."

It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room at those five words. George was now having trouble getting his own breath. Sure, he'd known she was married, the rings were all the evidence he'd needed. But to hear it said aloud, for someone else to have witnessed it, even in a memory. Feelings he'd thought long since buried cropped up, and he didn't like it. George didn't say anything, he couldn't.

“He seemed to be a muggle. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. Thaddeus Wallace. If he was a wizard, he'd have to be a halfblood or less. She was so happy, I could feel it.” Draco was spinning her rings around her finger.

George swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Do you know when this was?”

Draco was silent for some time and George looked up. Draco had stopped spinning the rings and was lining Hermione’s hand up with his, measuring the difference in the sizes. “Almost two years ago.”

“So this was recent then.” George said, somewhat relieved.

“Seems so.” Draco replied, his voice quiet, as if he were thinking. “I think I know what she is doing.” George snapped his head up, his eyes boring into Draco’s temple as he waited for him to explain. Draco cleared his throat and finally looked over at George. “Whatever happened to cause her to go into this state had to have been traumatic. Otherwise, I don't think this would have happened. Which we've already discussed. But what I think she is doing is replaying certain memories. Kind of like those Muggle movies that Scorpius is so fond of. You can rewind them and watch over again. I think, when she gets to the end of whatever reel she has playing, she'll wake up.”

George nodded, his gaze dropped to Hermione. “Let's hope that's soon.”

“I agree. However, I think we should get Hermione into the bath, with some hot water to soothe her muscles, because they’re going to be sore.” Draco said, both wizards avoiding the other's gaze.

George nodded in agreement, “Should we call for Fellie then?”

Draco shook his head. “Even their magic has limitations. She wouldn’t be able to hold her up in the water and bathe her as well. She’s too little and she’s also the only female house elf we have. Though we could call her and while you and I support Hermione in the tub, closing our eyes, Fellie could wash her.”

It was the best suggestion, as Draco would feel like a pervert if he washed Hermione while she was unconscious. They didn’t have the best history as it was and he hoped that when she woke up in the manor she didn’t immediately try and hex him. George murmured in agreement and Draco called out for the elf, “Fellie.”

“Fellie is here, Master Draco. What is you needing?” Fellie asked as she bowed, her nose touching the floor.

“Hermione had a seizure and to ease the aches in her muscles, we would like for her to soak in the tub in hot water. Could you go and draw the water?” Draco asked and he watched as the house elf’s eyes widen.

The little elf began shaking in her miniature tartan dress, the material reminding him of Professor McGonagall. “But--but Master Draco. Fellie can’ts hold up Miss Hermione and wash her, too. And Fellie is the only she elf.” The poor elf was becoming hysterical and Draco put his hand on her shoulder, which only added to her distress.

“Calm down, Fellie. We know that you are unable to complete this task on your own and will require help. And as you are the only female elf, George and I are going to help you.” Draco hadn’t thought it was possible for Fellie’s eyes to get any wider, but they did at the mention of her master and his guest helping Fellie in the duty tasked to her. “I know it is uncommon for a master to help his elf, but in this case, it is necessary. If your mistress knew of Miss Hermione’s presence here, I would have her help you, but as she does not, we have no other choice.”

The elf was still trembling, but gave a nod as she left the bedside and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filtered into the bedroom and Draco looked over at George. But when Draco made a move to pick Hermione up from the bed, George made a noise in the back of his throat. They both looked at each other awkwardly, before George cleared his throat. “It would be best to undress her here. It will be much more difficult in the tub. Assuming you want to keep Astoria’s gown.”

Draco nodded, he hadn’t thought of that. He chewed on his bottom lip and lifted his wand, silently summoning one of the large towels from the bathroom. George caught it as it came flying past him, unfolding it and holding it at the ready, his hazel eyes fixed on some distant point over Draco’s head.

Draco waved his wand once more, this time pointing it at Hermione’s body, levitating her a few inches from the bed. He swallowed thickly, which was extremely difficult, considering his mouth was as dry as a desert. Draco’s fingers caught the hem of the gown, drifting it up Hermione’s legs. The moment his fingers came into contact with the skin of her thighs, Draco’s breath caught in his chest and he lifted his eyes from his task.

He was beginning to feel like a pervert already, undressing his former childhood nemesis in her unconscious state. But it had to be done. Draco kept moving the light pink gown up Hermione’s body without looking. When he got past her hips, George jumped in with the towel to begin giving Hermione her modesty.

Draco carefully pulled one of her arms free of the garment, gently lowering the limp limb down to hang, the hand resting on the bed. Then he took over the towel from George, who removed the gown from Hermione’s neck and other arm. Draco then picked up his wand again and slowly began to levitate Hermione into the bathroom.

When they walked into the vast marble expanse, Fellie was perched on the edge of the deep tub, wringing her hands in worry. Draco lowered Hermione over the tub, only reaching out to remove the towel when she was about to reach the water. George grabbed the towel and rolled it up. Once Draco had Hermione fully lowered into the water and both he and George had averted their eyes to Hermione’s head only. George propped her head up with the towel and Draco supported her shoulders.

“Fellie begin now?” The elf asked, her voice warbling with her nerves. Draco looked up at her and shook his head lightly.

“No, Fellie. Let’s allow her to soak for about fifteen minutes to let the heat penetrate her muscles.” Draco watched as George piled Hermione’s mahogany curls on top of her head. Fellie nodded, lifting her hands to worry her ears, twisting the golden hoops that dangled there. “You know, I’ve always had a thing for her.” Draco admitted quietly, just as the water cut off. He hoped the sound had masked what he had said.

But George’s head lifted from looking into Hermione’s curls to look at Draco. “What?”

Draco avoided his stare, he’d never admitted this to anyone, so he wasn’t comfortable making eye contact to talk about it. “I’ve always had a thing for Gran--Hermione. Ever since our first year, when she bumped into me on the platform. Or knocked me on my arse, rather. Then apologized profusely. We even rode together on the train for a while. Until Crabbe and Goyle finally found me. Then she went off and found Harry and your brother.”

George kept his stare level on Draco’s profile, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated what Draco had just said, “Then why were you such a twat to her?”

A snort burned Draco’s nose as he readjusted Hermione’s shoulders in the tub. “Because when I got to the school, I heard her talking with Longbottom about how her parents were muggles. Even then, I was prepared to still be her friend. But then she was sorted into Gryffindor and I into Slytherin and she became best friends with Harry and Ron, who both hated me. She bested me in every class, even potions. You know what my father was like and how I was raised, he was livid that I was being beaten by a muggleborn, though he didn’t use that word. I was a right little shite back then, always trying to make my father proud.

“So I was awful to her, just like my dad would have wanted me to be. I definitely deserved that punch in third year.” Draco chuckled and looked up at Fellie, pulled from his reminiscing. “Alright, Fellie, you can wash her up now.”

Hermione breathed a soft sigh, her head lolling on the towel. She must have felt the tenderness in her muscles and the water had indeed helped. Draco would have to give her a pain potion once they got her back into the bed after this, just to help her rest. “I never knew that you and Hermione had met on the platform. Or that you fancied her.”

“We were some of the first ones there. Father nothing if not punctual and we both know how Hermione is about being on time for things. If you’re not early you’re late.” Draco chuckled drily and shifted Hermione higher in the tub. George chuckled too, his breath stirring Hermione’s hair. “I feel guilty though, admitting this now.”

George rested his head on his hand as he measured Hermione’s facial expression, making sure she was okay. “Why is that?”

Draco sighed softly, his gaze falling on the freckles that dusted Hermione’s cheeks and nose. “Because I feel as if I am betraying Astoria’s memory. Betraying our love.” Draco brought a hand up to his chest and began to rub over his heart, where the ache had begun to form in his chest. “It’s not fair to Astoria to pine after another woman. A woman I tormented in our childhood.”

His ex-lover leaned across the distance and lifted Draco’s chin, connecting their gazes. “I never met Astoria, but can you honestly tell me that she would have wanted you to wallow in misery and be alone the rest of your days? And you never had these misgivings when we were together. At least you never voiced them to me.”

Draco sat in silence, his eyes still locked with George’s as realization dawned in those hazel eyes, the color dulling as he realized why Draco wouldn’t have had those reservations about their own relationship. “You never saw us together in the long run. Never saw a future for us.”

“George…” Draco began, but George just shook his head sadly.

“Draco, it’s fine, honestly. I’m not saying I had gone all girly on you and had our future all planned out, but I did like what we had. Even if it was a relationship I never would have seen myself in. Percy, maybe. But never myself.” George scooted a little farther away from Draco and that only made Draco’s chest ache more.

Fellie cleared her throat, “Master Draco, Fellie is done now. Should Fellie wash Miss Hermione’s pretty hair?”

George and Draco exchanged glances and shrugs, “Sure Fellie, we’ll hold her up so that you can, okay?” The elf nodded and both of the wizards moved to opposite sides of the deep tub, lifting Hermione into a fully seated position with Draco carefully supporting her neck.

Fellie quickly washed her hair, using the same shampoo that Draco himself used and it gave Draco an odd feeling in his chest. Almost a sense of pride that she would smell like him. He shook it away and focused on the feel of the water running over his hand as he supported her head. Draco found his fingers gently massaging her neck.

George’s voice broke the silence again, “If she ever forgave you and gave you a chance, would you take it?”

Wasn't that the question of the millennium? Draco found himself chewing on his bottom lip. “I’d like to say yes, I would in a heartbeat. But I can't just make a rash decision like that. I have Scorp to think about. Besides, we have no idea what she's been through. She may never want to be in another relationship. But if she did, I would consider it, provided it wouldn't affect Scorpius in any negative way.”

What Draco had seen in her memories earlier played through his mind once more. Hermione had seemed so happy and he hoped that had always been the case. Draco hoped and prayed to whomever would listen that the man she had married hadn’t raised a hand to her. Because so help him Merlin, if that man had, Draco would track him down and kill him. If Hermione hadn't already, that is, Draco thought to himself.

“Fellie is finished.” The elf stated right next to Draco, causing him to jump.

“Thank you, Fellie. Go and gather another of Mistress Astoria’s gowns and return here at once to finish. George and I will dry Miss Hermione and get her back to the bed so you can finish.” The elf bowed and disappeared with a pop, Draco and George gently eased Hermione back against the tub once more. Draco then pulled his wand from his pocket and levitated Hermione from the water, both men keeping their eyes averted.

George grabbed another towel and draped it blindly over her body, using his own wand to cast a hot-air charm to dry Hermione’s body quickly. Draco then floated her out of the bathroom and back to the bed. Once she was settled, Draco made sure the towel was well in place and he gave a jerk of his head to the door. “I'll have Kopper bring us some lunch. Give Fellie time to finish up with Hermione. Then we'll get her to fetch some more broth for her. Actually, I think we'll maybe try her on some potato soup. Come on, I think we both need some Firewhiskey after that.”

Draco knew he needed something that would tone down his raw emotions and his overworked system. He hated to admit it, but he had wanted to sneak a peek. He hadn’t dared, though. It would have been an invasion of Hermione’s privacy. Sure, old Draco probably would have been the pervert and done the entire bath himself. But Astoria had changed him for the better and he hadn’t had the time to thank her enough. Could he find it in his heart to ever love another witch like he'd loved Tori?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Blackians! We’re getting close to our dear Hermione waking up! I know you’re all looking forward to that! I won’t keep you from the chapter. Let me know what you think! Have fun!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot seen here.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

_George had talked non-stop during this session, but he couldn't keep from admiring Draco. He and Draco had started a tradition of going out after each session for either food or just tea. They talked about all kinds of things outside of what they usually talked about in their sessions. And George had come to know Draco in a new light. This evening they had chosen a quiet restaurant in Muggle London and were sitting in a dark corner. “Do you think you'll ever get used to being a single parent?”_

_Draco took a sip of the bourbon they had ordered and shook his head. “If it weren't for my mum, I would be clueless. The elves are a big help, too.” The server arrived then with their meals, sitting the hot plates in front of them. The two wizards looked up and murmured their thanks. “What about you, George? Do you ever see yourself settling down and having children?”_

_George shrugged, starting to cut his filet steak. “I don’t feel like I can settle down and move on right now. At least not until I can correctly process Fred’s death. Even then, I’m not sure that I can be a father, at least not as good as my own.” He watched as Draco lifted his knife and fork, his impeccable table manners at work._

_“Processing Fred’s death before moving on is likely the best idea. It is what I feel I myself must do. But I do feel that you would make a wonderful father, George.” Draco glanced up at George and their eyes locked. Something passed between them, almost like a spark of magic. Both men blinked and looked down at their individual plates of food, clearing their throats._

_“Thank you,” George said, taking a bite of his food, a smile forming on his face as he tried not to blush. It had been a long time since someone had paid him a compliment and he didn’t know how to take it. “Does Scorpius walk yet?”_

_“Oh Merlin, yes. He’s everywhere. So hard to keep track of. He’s been walking for about three months now. He can even say ‘Dada’ and and ‘Gam’ for Grammy. Then he sometimes says ‘Ma’ and it breaks my heart.” Draco took a long drink of the bourbon before running a hand through his hair._

_George shook his head, taking a drink of his own vodka tonic. “I can’t begin to imagine what that feels like every time it happens. Any time someone mentions Fred, it’s like the wound opens again. Especially because no one at home mentions his name. It’s like they’re scared of it.”_

_The rest of the meal passed in more cordial conversation and both of the wizards were rather drunk by the time they left the restaurant. George and Draco walked the streets of Muggle London, laughing and weaving on the pavement. Draco stumbled over an uneven patch in the concrete and George caught him, his hands gripping Draco’s elbows. “Alright there, Draco?”_

_Draco’s eyes lifted to meet George’s and they locked stares again like in the restaurant. “Yes, yes, I’m alright. Thank you, George.” There were strange emotions swirling in Draco’s eyes--too many for George to count--but when they finally settled, he could see the hunger there and it caused George to shudder. “Would you like to come back to the manor with me?”_

_George gave a quick nod and that was when Draco took George by surprise, pushing him against the wall, their lips crashing together, teeth knocking together in their intensity. George’s hands moved to Draco’s hips, pulling him in close. In the blink of an eye, Draco had apparated them to his bedroom in the manor._

XxX

The sun had risen on another day and Hermione was still not awake. George lay next to her on the bed watching her as she was resting in her repose. For the last two days, she had kept a near constant smile on her face. Whatever memory she was reliving must be a very happy one. George himself had just been reliving a very cherished memory: the first time he and Draco had moved from friends to more than friends. George’s lips were tingling at the memory of their first kiss and their first night spent together.

He shook his head and rose to go to the loo. George hated to leave Hermione’s side for more than a few moments, but needs must be met. He would wait until Draco arrived to take a shower, however. He refused to leave Hermione alone for that long after the seizure she’d had. Godric, that had scared the shite out of him. George exited the loo after washing his hands and checked his wand for the time, wondering where Draco was.

It was well after breakfast and Draco was normally here by now. George had called for Fellie and ordered breakfast for himself and Hermione. The little elf had helped him give Hermione the broth before she had left. George began pacing the room, his eyes scanning the various books on the shelves. If Hermione were awake, she’d be delighted by the sheer amount of knowledge she was surrounded by.

The door opened and George turned around to find Draco coming in, looking a little bereft. He ran his delicate fingers through his blond hair and sighed softly. His gaze was sad and lonely as he stepped into the room and closed the door with a sigh.

“Draco? Are you alright?” George asked, lifting a book from the shelf and filtering through the pages, not paying attention to anything on them. His eyes were focused on Draco.

“Hmm? Oh yes, yes. Just returned from a check up for Scorpius. It’s always hard to do those without Astoria. Even though she was never able to go to one, it still feels as if she’s present at each one. Now, let’s check on Hermione. How did she sleep?” Draco asked, coming over to look at Hermione. He felt her head with his wrist and checked her blood pressure.

George replaced the book, sitting in the chair at the desk. “She slept fine. No thrashing about, no moving and no seizures, thank goodness. She’s had that smile on her face the whole time, though. Whatever those memories are, they must be pleasant.”

Draco nodded, turning to look at George. But George was finding it hard to look Draco in the eye after reliving that memory. “Let’s hope that she is nearing the end of whatever memories she is playing. Have you both eaten?”

“Yes, Fellie helped me with Hermione. She was very receptive of the thicker soup. So at least she is still getting nutrients,” George said, his eyes turning to look out of the window, onto the gardens he had long since memorized.

A small sound turned both their heads to the bed.

“Tad, I love you,” Hermione breathed, before quieting again.

George moved back to the bed, sitting next to Hermione. “Tad must be the name of the man you saw in her memories.” George brushed her hair back, trailing his thumb along her cheek. “Please, Hermione, wake up soon.” He looked up at Draco, who was looking down at Hermione, his grey eyes swirling with all kinds of emotion. “I’m going to go take a shower now that you’re here.”

Draco simply nodded, taking a seat on the bed, his eyes never leaving Hermione. He seemed to be lost in thought, no doubt still rattled from the Healer appointment with Scorpius. George rose from the bed and returned to the loo.

XxX

_May 20, 2001_

_“I’m ready to get on the road, Tad. Do you have all of our bags in the car?” Hermione called from the kitchen. She was packing a cooler box, filling it with snacks and drinks for their trip, to make their stops fewer. They only had a few days for their honeymoon and she wanted to maximize their time in Bath._

_Tad walked into the kitchen with a grin on his face. “Yes, Mrs. Wallace. Are you done with that?” He leaned down to kiss Hermione on the lips and took the small portable cooler box from her hands. Hermione tilted her head back to meet his lips, smiling against his advance. They had spent last night tangled up in each other and Hermione was pleasantly sore everywhere. He turned away from her and left for the car. “I’ll meet you out there, babe.”_

_Hermione leaned up against the counter, smiling softly as she traced her lips. She planned on telling Tad this week about her being a witch. She had hid the truth from him long enough and now that they were married, she needed to tell him, even though it would still be considered a breach of the Statute of Secrecy._

_Technically, she was only supposed to tell Tad about her magical heritage when they had children, if those children showed magical abilities. But she fully intended on having children with Tad. They had even talked about it last night, wanting to start as soon as possible. Hermione knew that she was going to go to school when semester started this fall, but she still had no clue what for._

_She pushed herself away from the counter and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to turn off the lights on her way to the door. Hermione locked up on the way out and smiled at Tad, who was leaning up against the car waiting for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck when she got close and kissed him again with a smile. “I’m all ready now, Mr. Wallace.”_

_Tad chuckled quietly and opened her door for her. Hermione slid into the bucket seat, looking up with a smile at her new husband. When the door was shut, she clicked her seatbelt into place and watched as Tad walked around the front of the car._

_They had a two-and-a-half hour car ride ahead of them and Hermione was looking forward to getting to spend quality time with Tad. It was rare to get him to herself for several days at a time with his work schedule, so she would take these four days._

_It was nearly two hours into the car ride when Hermione looked up from the book she had been reading. “Where are we?”_

_“Just coming into Wiltshire or we’re in Wiltshire, I think,” Tad said, looking around at his surroundings as he drove slowly on a country lane._

_“You think? What do you mean, you think?” Hermione asked, putting the book down on the dash. She began to look around at her own surroundings. They were indeed out in the countryside, but an exact location couldn’t be determined. That was, until she saw a familiar sight up ahead of her on the left._

_“I thought I saw the sign saying we were coming into Wiltshire, but there was a good song on and I wasn’t paying attention,” Tad said, but Hermione wasn’t listening. She was too entranced by the great manor house that was approaching them. Tad couldn’t see it--there was no way he could ever see it. The Muggle repelling charms on it were way too strong. Hell, even the cloaking spells on it were strong._

_But Hermione had been here before, she had been cut open here, bled here. At the sight of it, Hermione’s chest constricted and she began to sweat. She leaned forward and turned the air conditioning to a lower temperature. She shouldn’t be able to see the stately manor; after they had escaped, it should have been warded back off to her._

_But Hermione suddenly suspected it had something to do with what Bellatrix had done to her. Wards like those that the Malfoys used were usually heavily imbued with blood magic. Hermione had bled into the floors of that house, the very foundation of the ancient manor. In theory, she could just Apparate right inside and there was nothing they could do about it. The alarms wouldn’t sound; the wards wouldn’t deter her. Hermione could go in and leave, undetected, without Narcissa or Draco ever knowing she was there._

_Draco. Hermione hadn’t thought of that name since the war. Oh, but she had thought of the wizard attached to that name. She had thought of him on her wedding day as a matter of fact, when she had noticed that Edith had the same color hair as the Malfoy heir._

_“Herrrrrmione?” Tad called after her, stretching her name out as if he had already tried to get her attention multiple times. When Hermione's eyes came back into focus, she realized that they had long since passed the manor. Tad had actually pulled over at a crossroads and was looking at the map he had bought and stashed in the glove box._

_“What? I'm sorry, I totally zoned out there.” Hermione said, looking at him apologetically._

_“I was just saying that I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere back here--" Tad pointed at a spot on the map, then moved his finger to where they were located. “But we are right about here, so if we turn here, it'll lead us back to the main road and we'll be right back on our way.”_

_Hermione nodded, looking over Tad with a smile. “Well, while we’re stopped, I’m going to get out and stretch my legs for a minute. How about it?” Hermione opened the door and stepped out, a stretch overtaking her body as she stood, a yawn stretching her mouth wide._

_Tad got out and shut his door and they both walked in the grass on the side of the road for a little ways, looking at the otherwise empty landscape. There were no houses along this stretch of the road, and the trees were few and far between, it was mainly open fields. But just over the crest of the hill Hermione could see the top of Malfoy Manor._

_Absentmindedly, she wondered what Draco was doing at this very moment. Since she hadn’t kept in contact with the wizarding world, she had no idea what anyone was getting up to. She hadn’t kept her subscription to the Daily Prophet and her few letters from Harry and Ron never held much information about the rest of the wizarding world._

_They turned back toward the car, walking hand in hand, to continue their journey to Bath. Hermione was really looking forward to seeing all of the history there, especially the Roman baths. But she still couldn’t quite shake the feelings that seeing the manor had stirred up in her body, her mind, and even her soul._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so excited that I waited to post this chapter to build the anticipation. I hope that you find this chapter to your liking. Please let me know what you think?
> 
> Disclaimer: JK owns all. Except the plot in this story and the original characters that I created.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

_March 20, 2003_

_They had been married nearly three years now and life for Hermione had changed for the better from their chance encounter. Her first date with Tad had been a revelation she hadn't expected. She had enjoyed immersing herself back into the Muggle world._

_Hermione still hadn’t told Tad about her magical abilities. Seeing Malfoy Manor on the way to their honeymoon destination had deterred her from doing so. But that hadn’t dampered the fun she’d had in Bath. Those four days had been some of the absolute best of their marriage and every year, on their anniversary, Tad took those days off again and they would travel._

_They had yet to start their family, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. But she had some news to tell Tad in the next couple of days, after she had a doctor’s appointment. Her life couldn't have been any better._

_Until the phone rang in the middle of the night._

_Hermione jerked awake as the shrill sound of the phone echoed through their home. Her eyes shot wide open as they tried to adjust to the darkness. She fumbled for the receiver on her side of the bed, lifting it from its cradle to her ear. “Hello?”_

_When the official sounding voice asked for Tad, she roused him, handing the phone over. His drowsy, gruff tone changed in an instant and went to alert and obeying. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He handed the phone back to Hermione, and she returned it to its cradle._

_“What's going on?” She asked, pulling her knees to her chest._

_“They're calling us all in. America is invading Iraq and they need our help. I have to go.” His lamp was flipped on, the light assaulting her eyes, wetness prickling the edges. She understood. He had a duty to his country, his people. Just as she had to hers. But he wasn't American and this was the Americans’ fight essentially, wasn't it? Bloody United Nations shite._

_“How long will you be gone?” she asked, her voice sounding small and scared. So unlike herself. But she had already lost so many of those she loved to war._

_He had disappeared into the closet, no doubt pulling on his uniform, his voice muffled. “I have no idea, babe.”_

_His goodbye had been rushed, but then again, it had to be. He had to go, there was no time to waste. He kissed her heartily and fled from the house._

XxX

Draco had convinced George to leave the manor and actually go check in on his business, to make sure things were running smoothly. He had assured and promised George that things would be fine with Hermione. Though, as a healer, he should have known better than to make a promise that he couldn’t keep.

Hermione had been still and quiet, as usual, all morning. Draco had taken a book down from one of the shelves and had started reading it, attempting to distract himself. It was now the fifth of May; it had been three days since Hermione had fallen into her coma. It was absolutely driving Draco around the bend that she wasn’t waking up, and that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He felt the bed begin to move slightly and he thought that Hermione may be doing one of her rare adjusting moments. But when Draco turned to look at Hermione, she was sobbing quietly. There were large tears streaming down her face and her body was shaking from the sobs. Draco dropped the book on the bed and moved closer, sliding one arm under Hermione’s shoulders and pullinh her into his chest. “Shhh, Hermione, I’ve got you.”

Draco had a feeling that whatever she was reliving now was painful. He also thought that she may be coming near the end of whatever memories that was holding her in this magical coma. “It’s alright, Hermione. I’ve got you.” Draco used his free hand to pick up his wand and cast a patronus to send to George, telling him to return immediately. If Hermione was going to wake up soon, George needed to be here. She had appeared to him, after all.

XxX

_May 2, 2003_

_Today was a day she hated. It held so much pain. It was the five-year anniversary of the fall of Voldemort. The day she had found out that so many of her friends and loved ones had died. And she couldn’t sleep. Of course, she hadn’t slept much since Tad had left, and that had been just over a month ago._

_And now, she was waiting to hear from her husband. They hadn’t had much communication, just a short ‘Hi. How are you? I have to go. I love you.’ She hadn’t had a chance to tell him their good news. It had been radio silence for two weeks now and most of the British troops had been pulled back yesterday to return home. At least, that is what the news had said. They hadn’t said which platoons yet, and she found herself hoping and praying that Tad’s was one of them. She would tell him when he came home._

_The death toll was rising each day, the new count now at 170 plus. Which, considering all the weapons, could be a lot higher._

_Since she couldn’t sit still she was doing chores around the house that she hadn’t gotten to yet. There was a load of laundry on the wash, one on to dry and she was washing dishes, throwing herself into the task to distract her mind, when there was a knock on the front door. Her hands paused in the movement, fear constricting her throat._

_She glanced up at the clock over the sink. It was about five in the evening. She knew she wasn’t expecting any visitors--she never had visitors. That could only mean one thing, and she hoped she was wrong._

_She picked up the dish towel, wiping her hands dry and twisting it in her fists, she walked to the front door. As she opened the door, her heart constricted in her chest as her mouth went dry. There, on her stoop, were two uniformed Armed Forces officers. “Mrs. Thaddeus Wallace?”_

_Hermione could do nothing but nod. Her mouth was as dry as the desert and her brain had ceased to function. There was a lump in her throat that was swelling by the second._

_The male officer turned to his female counterpart, his eyes turning sad as the severe-looking woman softened her features as if on command. “The Queen and the commander of the British Armed Forces regret to inform you that your husband, Sergeant Major Thaddeus Wallace, was killed in action, early this morning, in Iraq, saving an innocent child from insurgents. There is an ongoing investigation, and once that investigation is complete, you will have full access to that report.”_

_Hermione started to shake her head, her hands squeezing the towel in a death grip. “No. No, no, no, nononononoNONONO!” It was all her brain would allow her to say. Her body started to shake, magic vibrating through her system as agony took over._

_The devastating irony of this day was too much for her to bear and her magic, which had been willingly suppressed for far too long, burst forth, throwing the two officers away from her, while simultaneously Obliviating the incident from their memories. The outburst collapsed the front of the house, bringing it down in rubble. The last things she remembered were apparating away, landing in front of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, and seeing George’s surprised face as he went to close for the day, before she collapsed unconscious onto the pavers._

XxX

George had arrived a couple of minutes after Draco had sent his patronus. Draco looked up at the sound of the apparition, but didn’t cease his cooing to Hermione. It had seemed to be calming her down, but half an hour later, she began to become hysterical, batting at Draco, fighting so hard against his hold that he knew he was going to have bruises.

Draco had to rise from the bed, throwing up some barrier charms so that Hermione wouldn’t throw herself from the bed. George looked over at him worried, “She’s not having another seizure again, is she?”

“No. I think she’s reliving the memories that caused the coma.” Draco replied, his hand coming up to rub at a particularly sore spot where Hermione had pummeled him.

“Why are you not using on her to make sure she’s okay?” George asked, his voice slightly panicky.

Draco shook his head. “Two reasons. I don’t want to invade her privacy like that and she would beat me to hell if I was close enough to perform Legilimens on her. I think this is about to get rough, so brace yourself.” Draco waved his wand around the room and put up a silencing spell, so as not to frighten Scorpius if he was close, if Hermione screamed when she woke.

Something in the air told Draco that Hermione would be waking up soon. Both Draco and George could feel the magic, tension, and hurt building.

On the bed, Hermione’s lips began to move, forming the same word, over and over again. “What is she saying?” George wondered aloud. But they didn’t have to guess for long, because the one word became a murmur, a chant, then a yell, and finally a scream.

“TAAAAAAADDDDDDD!!!!” Hermione sat up ramrod straight in the bed, her eyes flying open, the colors in them flaring, almost as if there were amber flames dancing behind them. Her hair was a frizzy, flying mess, magic crackling between the curls. At the sound of her bloodcurdling scream, the windows in the room shattered, the books flew from the shelves,  and their pages went flying through the air.

When Hermione’s eyes landed on Draco and George, her mouth closed and the screaming stopped. Recognition showed in those eyes before it was replaced with severe pain and heartbreak. The tears continued to fall down her face as she laid back down in the bed on her side and curled into a ball, not saying a word.

Both Draco and George exchanged looks and breathed identical sighs of relief. She may not be anywhere near okay, but Hermione was finally awake. And that was all that they had been praying for the last three days. They wanted to give her some time to collect herself. Draco needed to examine her, but that could wait. With a silent nod between them, they righted the room so that she wouldn’t have to look at the destruction she caused and sat down in the armchairs by the fire to give her space. Draco would give her fifteen minutes, and then he would transition into Healer mode.

Those fifteen minutes passed by slowly and Hermione never moved from her spot. She was still crying. Draco could hear the quiet sobs from his spot near the fireplace. He looked over at George and gave him a nod. George rose from the chair, taking a deep breath to gather his courage. They had talked about how they would approach Hermione a few minutes ago and decided that George should go first.

Draco watched as George walked over and stood at the corner of the bed, clearing his throat quietly before speaking. “Hermione?”

The only answer was a whimper from her as she curled into herself more. George sat down on the bed, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. “Sweetheart, we’re in Malfoy Manor. Draco is a Healer, so we brought you here. Instead of St. Mungo’s. We’ll explain all of that later. But Draco needs to do an examination on you. Nothing invasive. Just needs to check your blood pressure and things like that. Is that okay?”

Draco realized he was clenching the plush armrests of the chair and forced himself to let them go, flexing his fingers as he strained his ears to hear Hermione’s response. But try as he might, he only heard a faint sound from the bed. George however turned back to Draco and gave him a solemn nod.

It was time for Draco to gather his own courage now. All of his equipment was still over by the bed, so all he had to do was walk over. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, letting his hands hang in mid air. Draco couldn’t help but notice they were shaking. The last time his hands had trembled like this was his first day as a licensed Healer.

Draco lowered his lids, took a deep breath, and stood from the chair, straightening his shirt. The walk to the bed was simultaneously short and ten miles long. George got up from the bed, moving around to the opposite side. Draco expected Hermione to protest George’s leaving, but she didn’t move or even really acknowledge his absence, aside from her eyes following him. “Hello, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped over to him, a wild look in their whiskey-colored depths, her voice was raspy when she answered, but it was like music to his ears. “Draco.”

“I’m just going to do a vitals check. Blood pressure, temperature, listen to your heart, lungs and check your pupil reactions. Alright?” Hermione nodded, her red-rimmed eyes closing as she maneuvered herself onto her back. Draco slid the blood pressure cuff onto her arm and placed the stethoscope into his ears.

Hermione looked up at him, a frown creasing her brow. Draco could tell she was confused as to why he would be using Muggle equipment, but she didn’t say anything. The piff, piff, piff of the cuff was loud in the room, but Hermione’s stare was almost screaming at him. Draco kept his eyes on the dial, reading her numbers as he started to deflate the cuff. “One hundred thirty-eight over eighty-seven. That’s higher than it has been, but I expected that.”

Draco lifted his wand to Hermione’s temple and murmured the spell to check her temperature, getting a normal reading and nodding, “Thirty-six point ninety-four. Normal.” He placed the disc of his stethoscope on her chest over her heart, listening to the steady thumping of her heart. “Sounds good there. I’m going to need you to take some deep breaths, okay? Whenever I move the disc around, I want you to take a deep breath.” Hermione gave him a nod, and Draco continued.

Once that was finished, Draco pulled out what the Muggles call a penlight. “This is going to be bright, probably. Especially with you being in a sort of coma for three days, but I do need to check your eyes.”

“Draco, I’ve had this done before, just get on with it,” Hermione said, her voice flat.

Draco swallowed hard and nodded, flashing the light into one eye and then the other, watching how her pupils reacted. “Everything looks great. Are there any medical conditions you need to be treated for? I assume not, since you’ve been perfectly fine the last few days. I ran some diagnostics when George first called me, but I need to ask.”

Hermione rolled back onto her side, her hair covering her face once more. Her flat voice had changed, had taken on a different tone, a different dimension. Now she sounded dead, all while being alive.

“Yeah, I’m pregnant.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello my Blackians! It has been a while since I have updated my Dramione stories, as most of them are fluffy and I just haven’t been in the mindset for that. If you’ve read my new story Through It All, I explain this. I had a rather massive dementor attack and I am only just now getting back to myself. Several well cast Patroni and lots of chocolate have helped.
> 
> While I am eager to return to writing Say You Won’t Let Go and Soul Bound, I am scared to open them and write something I regret. And so, I chose to write on Fade to Black, because where the characters are at in the story is closest to where my muse is at. And without further adieu, I give you chapter 11.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot which deviates from the original story and the original characters.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

Draco and George both exchanged a look of utter disbelief at Hermione’s admission. But none of that mattered to her. She couldn't care less what thoughts were running through their brains right now. “How long have I been out again?” she asked in the same dead voice. Hermione couldn't help it --it was how she felt inside.

“Three days,” Draco answered from his spot closest to her, his voice sounding worried. “Hermione, I really hate to ask, but have you had an appointment for the baby?”

Hermione sighed, the air that left her mouth forcing her hair to fly into the air. “Only one. To confirm the pregnancy. In April, my next appointment was set for the end of this month. I was seeing a muggle doctor, for obvious reasons."

She didn't lift her head to look at the two wizards; she simply laid there, lost in the nest of her hair, waiting for one of the two to speak. Hermione knew it would likely be Draco, as he was still, no doubt, assessing her medically. “I need to do a few charms to check the baby, Hermione. If you'd let me.”

Hermione rolled onto her back once again, her eyes fixating on the elegant drapery around the bed. The Malfoys really knew how to decorate, didn't they? She could feel the warmth at her abdomen, but did her best to ignore it. If she dwelt too much on the thought of having a life growing inside of her, she became more unsure of what she wanted to do.

On the one hand, the baby was all she had left of Tad. But on the opposite side of the scale, the baby was a grisly reminder of all that she had lost. After all, the love of her life had been killed in war, just as many other she loved had been. Tears speared into her eyes and it surprised her that she still had tears left to cry.

“All is well with the baby.” Draco said quietly. “We’ll let you rest. Should you need anything, please just call for Fellie. Or let George know and he will call for Fellie. If you need me, Fellie can also come and fetch me. But I need to go and check on Scorpius.” Hermione felt Draco stand and she opened her eyes to find a pair of molten silver eyes staring back into hers. “Please, don't hesitate to call. If George is sleeping and you don't want to call for Fellie, my rooms are the first to the right of this door in the hall. Come find me.”

Hermione was shocked by the intensity in his stare. This Draco was so different from the boy she'd known in school. She gave him a nod. The shock in her eyes had already been replaced and the color had dulled back down. She felt his fingers come up and brush away the curl that was caught in her lashes.

Draco’s hand lingered for a moment before he walked around the bed. George rose to meet him and together they walked to the door. Hermione turned back onto her side, watching the exchange through her hair. They talked quietly between themselves, an air of comfort surrounding them as if this was an everyday occurrence. But there was also an awkwardness shrouding them, affecting their body language, their gestures.

Finally, Draco nodded and George sighed softly, putting his hand on Draco’s shoulder, his thumb stroking the blond’s neck gently. That was an intimate gesture and after a moment, Draco leaned in and rested his forehead against George’s. There was or had been something between the two wizards before, though Hermione would never have taken either of them for bisexuals.

George seemed to lean his mouth in closer for a moment, but remembered something and pulled back with a nod. Draco sighed softly, his voice finally loud enough for Hermione to just barely hear. “We can't, George. You know that.”

Her first love gave a curt nod and released Draco, both wizards returning to their full height. “I know, Draco. It's just being here, so close. It's hard not to get sucked back in. Go check on Scorp. He's probably wondering where you are anyway. I'll try and talk to her, find out what happened. But if it's okay with her, I'm going back to the shop for a while. It's in a bit of a mess at the moment.”

Draco nodded, his hand finding the door knob and turning it. “Alright, but if you do leave, drop by and let us know. So I can come check on her.”

George gave Draco a nod and the blond left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Hermione heard George sigh heavily and then his footsteps echoed across the hardwood floors. The mattress gave way under his weight as he settled at Hermione’s hip.

XxX

“What happened to you, Mi? And I'm not just talking about whatever put you in that coma, or whatever it was. That scared the shite out of me. But you just...disappeared, ran away. Left me when I needed you the most.” George hadn't meant to go off on her like that, but he couldn't help himself. For five years, he'd wondered what had been going on with her life. Where she had gone, what she had been doing. Why she had left him when he was so broken.

He heard her sigh, the sound so quiet that he almost thought he imagined it, until she spoke, “I'm sorry, George, truly. I have no excuses that I could give you that would make up for why I ran. I just couldn't handle the grief and the guilt of surviving while so many I loved had died, and then fame that the entire wizarding world was thrusting upon Harry, Ron and I. I wasn't equipped for that. I never meant to leave you in your most dire time of need. But you had your entire family there with you, to help you grieve.”

George knew that he couldn't blame her, couldn't hold a grudge against her. She had left for her own sanity. But he couldn't hold back the sob that ripped from his chest, nor the strangled words that fell from his lips. “I had my family, but I needed the girl that I was still in love with.”

It was Hermione’s turn to release a sob at his words. George knew it was wrong of him to bring all of this up now, especially just after she had woken up from a self-induced traumatic magical coma, but five years of pent up anger and frustration had bubbled to the surface. “You still loved me? That was two years after we'd broken up. You'd never said anything. But George, it would have been so hard for me to be there for you, when I wasn't even present for myself. When I escaped to the Muggle world, I barely ate or drank anything and I rarely left the bed. I was a living ghost, a phantom. There was no way I could have comforted you the way you needed. I'm sorry I left you, I am. But...I don't regret it.”

George looked over at Hermione. She had tucked her hair behind her ear and was staring at her wedding bands. It was then that George knew that nothing sinister had happened to Hermione, at least not in the way he and Draco had been thinking. “Mi, sweetheart, what happened three days ago?”

Hermione’s eyes were haunted, but never left the gold set on her finger. She was quiet for several minutes before she took a deep breath, “You know, I really fucking hate that day. I have lost so much to that day. Friends, family, loved ones and now, the love of my life. The father of our unborn child. Tad was an amazing man. He was a Captain in the British Army and in March he was called out to help American forces invade Iraq. You can't disobey direct orders like that. They had just started pulling out the British forces a couple of weeks before, so I hadn't heard from him. Which he had said might happen.”

George was frowning as he listened to Hermione speak. He could feel the bed shaking from her frame trembling. “Then I was cleaning up the dishes from the day that evening when there was the doorbell and a knock. I answered the door to two uniformed officers. They told me that Tad had been killed in action. I hadn't really used my magic in five years, aside from keeping up my wards, so the news was a blow to my system and it overwhelmed me. I blew apart the front of my parents house and threw the officers across the yard. I'm pretty sure it also Obliviated them in the process. Then I apparated to the first person I thought of, and the place I'd hope you'd most likely be.”

Hermione stopped talking, her jaw clenching shut tightly. There were large tears trailing down her cheek and pooling in the corner of her nose from the way she was laying. She wiped away the tears at her nose and sniffled. George summoned a tissue to him and offered it to her. She took it, dabbing at her eyes with it. “But why me, Mi? Why not Ron, or Harry?”

“Because you know what it's like to lose your other half, George.”

XxX

Draco rested his back against the door he had just shut, George was right, being back in such a close setting with him, it was hard not to get sucked back into those previous feelings. But Draco couldn’t let that happen, his mother was right on that subject. But dammit if he didn’t need that kind of connection right now. He was drifting and there was nothing he could do about it. The only times he felt grounded were when he was looking in George’s eyes and a few minutes earlier, when he’d locked gazes with a broken Hermione.

It was in that moment that he’d felt a kinship with her, whatever had happened in her life had connected them somehow. Draco hoped that George could suss out what happened, so they could discern what had triggered her coma. Quiet voices bled through the door behind him and Draco pushed off of it with a soft sigh. He really did need to go and check on Scorpius.

He felt bad for neglecting his mother and son for the last few days, but Hermione had been the priority. Draco went to his suite of rooms to wash his face first, his mind was still reeling from the way Hermione had woken up. Her scream had been bloodcurdling. With her being pregnant, it made him wonder if this Tad person hadn’t raped her and she was running from him because he wouldn’t leave her alone.

Draco sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. He left his and Scorpius’ suite and went in search of his son and mother. At this time of day, they would likely be in the sun parlor getting tea, or in Scorpius’ playroom adjacent to it. When they weren’t in either room, Draco frowned. His mother hadn’t mentioned taking Scorpius anywhere. “Welter.”

The eldest elf in the house appeared before Draco, bowing low and addressing his master, “Yes, Master Draco?”

“Where are my mother and Scorpius?” Draco asked, looking around at the perfectly clean playroom, which was not the normal standard for this room during the day. Draco’s heart was starting to beat erratically. He knew there was a logical explanation for them not being in the two places they occupied most, but Draco was still rattled from the experience with Hermione earlier.

“In the gazebo, Master Draco. Mistress said it was a beautiful day outside and wanted to have tea amongst the flowers and herbs in the garden. And young Master Scorpius wished to fly his little broom.” Welter answered, pointing to the double glass doors that opened toward the direction of the gazebo.

Draco released the breath he’d been holding, the weight lifting from his shoulders as he gave a nod to Welter. “Thank you, Welter. Please, return to whatever you were doing previously. I know I don’t say it enough, but without you and your staff this Manor would be in ruins. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

Welter gave a deep bow and disappeared with a pop before he stood up again. Draco quickly crossed the playroom, opening one side of the double doors and walking out into the expansive gardens. His mother had been right. It was a beautiful day, of course, and the fresh air was already doing him wonders. It cleared his head immediately and allowed him to take a lungful of cleansing air into his body.

The walk over to the gazebo was a short one and he could see Scorpius flying around, just a short distance off the ground, his toes brushing the grass of the open space he was flying in. Draco stopped in his tracks, watching the joy on his little boy’s face. He remembered that feeling well. He'd been around Scorpius’ age when he’d gotten his first broom as well.

Draco pulled himself out of the trance he’d found himself in and finished the walk over to his mother, looking down at her with as much of a smile as he could muster. “You look terrible, darling.”

“Thanks, mum. You look stunning, as always.” Draco bent at his waist and placed a kiss on each of his mother’s cheeks. He joined her at the small wrought iron table, a teacup in front of him, the kettle lifting of its own accord and pouring the steaming liquid in. His grey eyes followed the sugar as it lifted from the bowl and landed in his cup.

“What is bothering you, my son? I haven’t seen you this troubled since the last time you were tangled up with George.” That was Narcissa’s way of prying, even though he’d told her not to.

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as he stirred his tea, lifting the delicate china up to his lips and taking a sip, “Mother, you’re fishing again. I promise, George and I are not renewing our romantic relationship. It has to do with a patient.”

Those eagle like blue eyes of hers looked over at him, narrowing suspiciously, “Patient? Draco, you haven’t left the house in three days. Haven’t been into your office in a week. When you left here three days ago, it was to see George. Now, unless I am missing something here, you don’t have any other patients right now besides him.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Hermione’s presence here from his mother forever, especially not now that Hermione was awake. Draco lifted his teacup to his lips, blowing gently across the surface, his eyes locking onto Scorpius, still flying around and giggling. “It’s Hermione Granger. She is in the room next to mine.”

Narcissa had been lifting a spoon from the saucer to stir more honey into her tea, but Draco heard a clang when he said Hermione’s name. His mother, the ever graceful and elegant Narcissa Malfoy had lost her composure at the mention of the Muggleborn’s name. “But she hasn’t been seen in the wizarding world since right after the war ended! Why in Merlin’s name did she come back now?”

“I’m not for sure of the reasons, but she just apparated outside of George’s shop and collapsed into an unconscious heap. She was in some kind of trauma-induced magical coma for three days. Nothing I did worked. So we just carefully poured broths and soups down her throat to keep her nutrition up. I finally got into her head and one of her memories was playing, like one of those Muggle movies Scorp watches. She would smile, sometimes mumble, but otherwise, laid as still as a corpse. My best guess is that she was reliving her life over the last few years. Up until whatever tragic event caused her to go into that state. She woke up shrieking a man’s name, Tad.” Draco sighed heavily, taking a sip of the still warm tea. The sky was still a clear blue, but it felt darker.

Narcissa was quiet for a few minutes, obviously soaking in what her son was saying. “George has been staying in the room with her?”

Draco nodded, setting the cup down. “Yes, I didn’t want her left alone. Just in case she woke up. Which turned out to be a good thing, because she had a seizure yesterday while in the coma. I don’t know what caused it, but all of her diagnostic spells came back fine. She woke up about an hour ago. I checked her over and she’s fine. I left her with George, hoping she would talk to him because they’ve been friends for years and dated while we were in Hogwarts.”

Silence fell between mother and son once again, Draco’s eyes sought out Scorpius who had dismounted his broom and was walking along in the gardens, chasing a random garden gnome. It would be gone within the hour, once the elves got wind of a gnome in their mistress’ garden. “I don’t know what to do, mum.”

“What do you mean, darling?” Narcissa asked.

“She is or was married, I don’t know which. The rings are on her hand, like I said, I’m hoping George finds that out. But she’s also pregnant. From my examination, she is about two months along. If she is running from her husband, what do I do?” Draco’s eyes hadn’t left his son. He knew what he would do if it were Scorpius, but this wasn’t his child and Hermione was an adult, capable of making her own decisions.

A heavy sigh came from his mother’s side of the table, “Draco, darling, you can’t fix everything for everyone. You couldn’t have saved Astoria and you can’t keep Miss Granger from making whatever choice she wants to make regarding her situation. I love you, but you are not one of Scorpius’ superheroes. You have a heart of gold, my darling boy. But sometimes it will get you into places that you cannot buy your way out of with it. But do tell Miss Granger that should she need some womanly advice, she is more than welcome to talk to me.”

This woman in front of him was the epitome of compassion. To have been married to a man that made their lives a living hell, not just with his words but with his actions and beliefs, and for her to push all of those aside to care for a woman in distress, it amazed Draco. “I’ll let her know, Mum. Thank you for offering. I’m going to go and play with Scorpius for a bit now. George may leave for the evening, so I might have to stay with Hermione until bedtime. I hate pushing Scorp off on you so much, I feel like I’m neglecting him too. But I don’t want to leave her alone just yet, especially not until I know what happened.”

“May I make another suggestion, darling?” Narcissa asked, pushing away her teacup and saucer.

His mother was one of the people he looked up to the most, of course he was going to take any advice she had to give. “Absolutely, mum.”

Narcissa nodded, her eyes latching onto her grandson who was now holding the gnome by his bald head, pulling on one of it’s arms. An intense and studious look on his face, one that reminded Draco of himself. “After a few days, if she is still here, take Scorpius in to see her. He saved you, he’s been the light in your life, perhaps he can be hers for a while.”

Draco tilted his head, his brow furrowed at the idea his mother had put forth. She again, had a point. “Thanks, mum. You’re the best.” He rose and kissed her cheeks once again before moving over to where Scorpius was in the garden, still examining the garden gnome.

Even at his young age, he was careful to hold it so that it didn’t bite him. Draco had a quick flashback to his second year when the mandrake had clamped down on his finger. Granted, he probably shouldn’t have stuck his finger in its mouth. “Hey buddy. Why don’t we call for one of the elves to take care of that? Gammy doesn’t like gnomes in her garden. They tear up the pretty flowers.”

Scorpius’ mouth turned down into a pout but his clear little voice called out for his favorite elf. “Milty.”

The little garden elf showed up in her dirty apron, trow in hand, smiling at Scorpius with her wide eyes. It was clear which Malfoy was her favorite as well. “I get it, Scorpy. I get it. Nasty Gnomsies.” She leaned in to take the gnome, giving Scorpius a kiss on the forehead, which was a chore for her, as Scorpius was just a little taller than she was. She then disappeared with a pop to dispose of the gnome.

“Why don’t we go swimming, buddy? For just a little bit?” Draco knew if there was one thing his son loved just as much as animals, it was swimming. Sure enough, those blue eyes looked up at him and lit up, for a moment, Draco was transported back to his first Christmas with Astoria. Her eyes had sparkled just the same at the earrings he had gotten her.

“Let’s go, Daddy!” Scorpius immediately started running toward the glass encased pool that was attached to the manor. Draco chuckled and followed after him, his long strides even having trouble keeping up with his son.

Scorpius had reached the doors and was jumping on his tiptoes, trying to reach the doorknob. His efforts would have been in vain; Draco and Narcissa had these doors warded so that Scorpius couldn’t get in without an adult. “Hang on, buddy. I’ll get it.”

Draco pulled his wand free and took down the wards, turning the knob to open the doors, Draco left them open, letting the fresh air in. The humidity in the pool room hit him in the face and he quickly set a cooling charm in the room.

When Draco looked around, Scorpius had shed his clothes and was standing in his nappy, waiting for Draco to change him into his swimming trousers. “C’mon, Daddy! Hurry!” Draco chuckled quietly and turned around to grab the trunks from their hook. They had little cartoon dragons on them and Draco grinned as he helped Scorpius into them.

After placing a flotation charm on Scorpius’ arms, he tickled the little toddler’s stomach. “Alright, buddy, jump in while Daddy changes.” Draco turned to grab his own trunks, a deep green color and went over to the partition in the corner. His head just stuck up over the top, allowing him to keep an eye on Scorp as he splashed in the water.

Draco tied up his trunks and walked toward the pool with a grin. He made his way to the deep in and gave his son a wicked look. “Hey Scorp!” When Scorpius looked up, they both said in unison, “CANNONBALL!” Draco jumped in the air, grabbing both his legs, and plummeted into the pool, making a large splash. When he surfaced, he could hear Scorpius’ giggles echoing around the room.

They had been swimming for about an hour when George walked into the cavernous room, a smile on his face when he heard Scorpius’ laughter. “Uncle Georgie! You gonna swim?”

“Not today, buddy. Maybe tomorrow. Uncle George has to go check on the joke shop.” The smile George was giving Scorpius was forced and Draco frowned, giving George a nod.

Draco swam to the shallow end of the pool, walking up the steps and summoning a towel to him. “Just keep swimming, Scorp. Daddy needs to talk to Uncle George for a minute.” He wiped his face as he followed George over to a bench by one of the windows. “Did she say anything to you?” Draco asked, his eyes remaining on Scorpius.

George recounted what Hermione had told him about what happened, and Draco’s heart broke for her. “Draco, she gave me the fucking chills. The last thing she said to me, before she clammed back up, when I asked her why she came to me. She told me she came to me because I knew what it was like to lose my other half.”

Fate, it had to be fucking fate that she had come to not just George, but Draco as well. It was just too much of a coincidence.

“Draco, I really do have to go. I need to get the shop back into shape. She’s not right. I left Fellie with her, but it won’t be long before she dismisses the poor elf. She doesn’t need to be alone.” George said, his eyes pleading.

Draco gave George a nod. “Mum is in the gazebo. I told her about Hermione. Go and let her know to come in and look after Scorp while I change. Then you can apparate from the gardens. I’ll watch over her tonight if you need to stay gone.”

“Thanks, Draco. I’ll probably be back though. I don’t know if I can leave her overnight just yet.” George looked as if he wanted to kiss Draco, and in that moment, Draco longed to. But he couldn’t.

Scorpius gave a shriek and splashed in the pool. Draco’s head jerked back around to look at his son. “You don’t have to thank me, George. Now go, you need to get to the shop and I need to get to Hermione.”

George left quickly, disappearing through the open doors into the garden and Draco went behind the changing partition once again, putting his clothes back on. When he came back out fully dressed, Scorpius saw him and frowned, “Time to get out, Daddy?”

“No, buddy. Grammy is going to come watch you swim. I’ve got to go and do some work myself.” Scorpius gave a nod, and returned to playing with a few of the toys that were in the water with him.

Narcissa showed up just a few moments later and gave Draco a silent nod to shoo him off and Draco left through the doors into the house. Once they were shut behind him, his strides became long and purposeful. Then he was jogging, and before long he was full out running. His rooms and the room Hermione was in were on the opposite side of the manor. For the first time in his life, he forgot that he was a wizard who could Apparate. He was terrified of what he might find if he didn’t make it to Hermione fast enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello my Blackians! I’m back with another chapter of our new favorite trio. In this chapter I feel we get to know a little more of Draco’s backstory, as well as a little bit of comic relief. Not much, mind you, but just a smidge. We also get to see someone visit George while he is in the joke shop. Who do you think that will be?
> 
> Also, in other great news, after I finish the new chapter for Through It All, I am going to start on a new chapter for Say You Won’t Let Go. I finally feel like I am at a place to pick that story back up again. Just before I go on vacation, lol. Now, onto the chapter. Please let me know what you think when you’re done. Reviews warm my heart.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the original story or the characters.
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Elle.

Draco had flat out run the entire way through the manor. His heart was pounding, his chest was heaving, and there was sweat dripping down his spine and temples. He paused to collect himself outside of the door where Hermione was staying, taking several gulping breaths of air to slow his breathing. He lifted the collar of the cotton shirt he had on to wipe his face clean of the perspiration.

It was a strange feeling to knock on a door in his own home, but Draco lifted a closed fist and rapped his knuckles against the cherry wood panels. He leaned in, listening for an answer, a slight panic arising he heard no reply. He turned the knob and cracked the door, peering around the edge. The bed was empty and Draco pushed the door wide. It was eerily quiet in the room and his panic didn’t abate when his eyes fell on the closed bathroom door.

A different kind of sweat now flushed across Draco’s body, a cold sweat as goosebumps broke out all over his skin. Draco was holding his breath as he slowly walked across the room, his hands shaking, palms wet with perspiration as well. He wiped his hands on the front of his shirt as he lifted his hand once more to knock on the door in front of him.

He was stopped short when he heard a soft, musical voice on the other side. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized Fellie’s voice rambling away to Hermione, telling her all about what George and he had done for Hermione over the last few days.

The soft tinkling of water could be heard, so Draco assumed Fellie was helping Hermione bathe once again. Hermione would certainly be weak after not moving for so many days. Even more so after that hellacious seizure yesterday.

Draco leaned against the bookcase next to the door and listened as Fellie moved onto one of her favorite pastimes, singing. It was one of Scorpius’ favorite children’s songs. It was about all the magical animals in alphabetical order. Sure, it was probably a bit juvenile for Hermione, but Draco was just grateful Fellie had kept Hermione company.

“A is for the Acromantula, big and strong, with eight beady eyes and long legs. B is for the bowtruckle, tiny and stick like, hiding in trees, eating the woodlice.” Draco mouthed the words with a small smile on his face.

Fellie always varied the song when she sang it to Scorpius, making sure to get every animal in there, even the different beings and spirits, like Vampires, Veela and Ghosts. But when she got to the letter D, it never failed, she always, always went for dragon. “D is for the dragon, strong and fearsome. With breath of fire and wings of might. Skin as tough as stone. But deep inside is a heart of gold.”

For the first time since he had arrived in the room, Draco heard Hermione speak to Fellie. “Does he?”

The voices were muted and Draco could hear them clear enough, but that didn't stop him from putting his ear directly against the panels.

“What is Missy Hermione asking Fellie?” The elf asked.

Draco could now hear the gurgle of the water leaving the deep-bellied tub, but Hermione’s reply was still clear. “You said the dragon has a heart of gold. I'm assuming you meant Draco. Does he?”

His breathing had ceased again. Hermione still sounded dead when she spoke, and that question sounded dark coming from her lips. But he didn't know what Fellie was going to answer. “He is the nicest master Fellie has ever had. I think so. Okay, Missy Hermione. Time to stand up.”

Draco raced away from the door. His destination was the desk close to the bed. As he went by the bookcase, he plucked a novel from the many there and sat in the chair, opening it to a random page. Usually, adopting an air of relaxed elegance was an easy accomplishment for him. But apparently it wasn't when he’d just been eavesdropping.

Nevertheless, he scanned his eyes across the page before him at an appropriate speed, reading, but not absorbing, the words. About ten minutes had passed and he was getting worried when the door opened. Draco looked up from the book, his eyes latching onto the woman standing in the door of the bathroom.

He was immediately transfixed. Hermione was a vision. The steam from the bathroom was curling around her body, already causing her damp hair to curl. The light shining behind her seemed to make her glow when mixed with the humidity. Instead of one of Astoria’s old gowns, she was in a white cotton shirt, not unlike the one he was wearing, and a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms. They looked vaguely familiar -- then he realized they were his.

Draco must have had an odd look on his face, because Hermione cleared her throat and spoke awkwardly, but still in that dead way of hers. “I'm not much of a dressing gown person. So I asked Fellie if there were a shirt and trousers I could borrow. This is what she brought.”

“No, it's fine,” Draco said, laying the book aside. Hermione was still standing in the doorway of the bathroom when Fellie turned the light out behind her. It was then that Draco noticed the strained expression on Hermione’s face as she used the frame of the door to support herself. “You're exhausted. Here, let me help you.”

He stood, walking over to Hermione, ducking under her arm and wrapping an arm around her waist. It was like supporting a feather. “We need to get some actual food into your system. Something packed with protein. Do you want to sit in the chair or get in the bed?”

“Fellie will go and get chicken, Master Draco. Missy Hermione’s stomach is upset. No seasoning better.” The elf disappeared with a pop and Draco looked at Hermione with a questioning brow raised.

Hermione sighed, her dead eyes shying away from his as they fell on the bed. “The bed, please. But I would like to sit up in it. I'm fine, it's just the morning sickness. Normal pregnancy stuff.”

Draco walked them over to the bed and settled Hermione into it, propping her up with pillows as he sat down next to her. “I should have the potions to help with that. If not, when George gets back, I can go to my office and get them.”

Darkened amber eyes turned to the window and glanced out the newly repaired glass. “That’ll be fine.” The silence stretched out between them, Draco didn’t want to force her to make conversation if she didn’t feel like it, but he nearly choked on his own saliva when she spoke next. “I didn’t realize the infamous Slytherin sex god was gay.”

XxX

Hermione watched as Draco spluttered, his eyes going wide at her words. If she had been in a better mind frame, she may have laughed out loud at making her childhood nemesis flounder for words. But as it was, she just lifted the corner of her lips in a small amused smile.

“Wha-I’m not. Who said? What makes you think I am gay?” Draco finally managed, his pale skin flushed a deep pink.

“I saw the interaction between you and George before you left. I used to date George, I know what it looks like for him to pine after someone he’s been intimate with. And then he told you to go and check on a Scorpius, which I only assume is your new lover. Though I could be wrong.” Hermione was speaking quietly, her eyes on her lap, her fingers playing with the sheets. She missed the life her voice used to have in it. Now there was no inflection in it at all.

Draco ran a visibly shaking hand through his hair. Hermione watched as he inhaled a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself, a small chuckle leaving his lips. “You always were very astute. Scorpius is my son, he’s a year and a half. So no, I am not gay. Bisexual, maybe. Well, as George and I were in a relationship for half a year, I guess saying ‘maybe’ would not be correct.”

Hermione left her eyes on the window, staring but not really seeing the sky beyond as she listened to the wizard sitting beside her. “I never would have seen either of you as the type to take comfort in the same sex. But, you know what they say when you assume.”

The blond gave her a confused look, his perfect brows knitting together, “I can’t say that I do know that they say when you assume.”

Another of those half smiles lit up Hermione’s lips, “Sorry, I guess it is a Muggle saying. They say, when someone assumes, it makes an ass out of you and me.”

Draco barked a laugh into the room, the sharp sound echoing off the tall ceiling. “Well, I guess they would be right then. I had never thought that I would find myself in a relationship with another male either. George and I certainly never saw it coming.”

Fellie appeared back into the room with a faint pop, a tray of bland foods in her hands as she carefully made her way to the bed. “This should help Missy Hermione.” Hermione turned her head to look at the elegantly dressed elf and watched as Draco bent forward to take the tray from the little elf.

“Thank you, Fellie. I really appreciate it.” It warmed Hermione’s heart a little to know that Draco and his family had freed their elves. She gave Fellie as much of a smile as she could muster and the elf beamed back at her.

“If Missy Hermione need anything else, just call Fellie.” Fellie gave a bow to both Hermione and then her master before disappearing once again.

Draco set the tray over Hermione’s legs and pulled the silver dome off of the plate. “Your dinner is served.”

Hermione lifted the elegant utensils and began to cut the meat, her eyes remaining on the plate. She could feel those grey eyes on her, watching her every move. She was thankful for the treatment and care she was receiving here from Draco and George, but she felt as if her heart were missing from her chest. Even if she could feel it beating plain as day.

“George filled me in on what happened. Hermione, I am so very sorry about what happened. I know from personal experience what it is like to lose a loved one and it is not something you just bounce back from.” Hermione glanced up from her plate at the obvious pain in Draco’s voice, to find him turning a wedding band on his finger. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that she did, she was wondering what had happened.

She lifted the fork to her lips, taking the bite of chicken from the tines, chewing it for a moment. When she finally had her mouth clear, she spoke quietly, “You were married? To Scorpius’ mother?” Hermione had never really thought about how much she had missed since she had been hiding out in the Muggle world.

Draco nodded, a heartbroken look taking over his aristocratic face. “Astoria Greengrass, her older sister Daphne was in our year. She was the most remarkable witch. Not only was she beautiful, she was elegant, graceful and exceptionally smart. Not as smart as you, however -- I don’t know if anyone can rival your intelligence. But she was perfect for me. She saw all of my faults, but never berated me for them.

“She was the first person to make me see that joining the wrong side of the war hadn’t truly been my choice, that it had been forced upon me. We married the year after the war was over and immediately started to try for a family of our own.” As Draco talked, Hermione had made it halfway through her meal. She tried not to focus too intently on Draco; she could tell how difficult this was for him to talk about.

Even now, as she risked a glance up at him, she could see tears shimmering on his near invisible lashes. “It took two years. When she told me that we were expecting...Merlin, she was glowing, just like you hear people say all the time. Those cobalt blue eyes of hers were so bright and joyous, her smile so wide it was touching her ears. Then she’d told me it was a boy and we would argue playfully about names. I wanted to break tradition and go with someone who had been influential in my decision to change sides. I wanted to name our son Remus.”

Draco paused, clearing his throat, his fingers running through his hair. This was the part that was going to be hardest for him, Hermione thought. He rose from the bed and began to pace around the magnificent four poster. “We went to bed peacefully that night. I rubbed her stomach and talked to Scorpius, like I did every night, until she fell asleep. She woke up early that morning in a panic, her water had broken, so we called for the healers. Everything was going fine, the labor was progressing beautifully. I was a new Healer at this point, not long out of my training.

“Then it was time for her to begin pushing and that’s when everything went to shite. Scorpius got stuck in the birth canal and her heart had started to give out on her. She’d had some kind of heart defect that she’d been born with and the stress of childbirth had been too much. Her last words to me had been to ‘Save Scorpius.’” Draco had stopped pacing and was looking out the window, his shoulders were shaking. It was clear he was having a hard time controlling his emotions.

“The Healers tried everything, I tried everything. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t fix her. And as I sat there beside her body as it grew cold, they handed me my son. In all the chaos, I had forgotten all about him. I had been so focused on saving the love of my life, my wife, that even his cries didn’t penetrate the panic that was suffusing my entire body. It wasn’t until I looked down at the squirming little boy, and into his eyes, that I felt the panic and heartache abate even the tiniest bit. Because looking back up at me, out of a face just like my own, were his mother’s blue eyes. That little boy saved my life, he’s my light. If it hadn’t been for Scorpius, I wouldn’t have stuck around after I lost Tori. I would have penned an apology letter to my mother and drank one too many sleeping potions and curled around my wife’s lifeless body to die.” Draco turned to look at Hermione, his eyes red-rimmed and full of pain.

Hermione inhaled a sharp breath and it was then that she realized why he had told her the full story. It was almost as if he had known what she had been thinking since she had woken up. She had thought multiple times of ending either her life, or terminating the pregnancy. It was a thought that was constantly in her mind, warring back and forth with the right thing to do.

“I named him Scorpius, because that is what she wanted. To do anything else would have been an insult to her memory,” Draco finished, walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to pretend that I know what you are thinking right now, but I just know what I felt in your situation.”

XxX

This situation was going to be the death of him, thought George as he looked around his office at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He could hear the gaggle of customers on the other side of the door and had no interest in going out there to entertain them. He had cast a couple of spells on the office to get the paperwork and bookkeeping started that he had fallen behind on in the last three days.

It was chores like this that made him long for Fred’s company. It had always been easier to do when you had someone else to do it with. George had tried to train his managers several times, but they just couldn’t seem to get it down.

A familiar voice brought his head up, his eyes focusing on his office door as his face scrunched into a grimace. “I don’t care if he said he doesn’t want to be disturbed. He’s my brother and I’ll march right on in if I wish to.”

George groaned as the door was thrown open and Ginny was silhouetted in the frame. “George Weasley, where have you been?” Her voice was shrill and sounded eerily like their mothers had when he, Fred and Ron had gone to rescue Harry before third year. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he inhaled slowly. George loved his only sister -- she was his pride and joy, his favorite sibling after his twin -- but when she got like this, he wanted to hex her into oblivion.

“Gin, we’re not at a shouting match, shut it, will ya?” he complained, waving his wand to pull out a chair for her as she glared at him.

Ginny took the seat, crossing her arms over her chest as she sat down, “George, you’ve been gone for three days. Where have you been? Mum’s worried sick, I’m worried about you. I know how hard the anniversary is for you and with this being the fifth year, I know that it has to be even more difficult.” Her topaz eyes locked onto his and held, with a knowledge that resembled Fred’s. It was why she was his favorite. It was also why he avoided her as much as possible when they were at the Burrow.

“I sent Mum an owl telling her I would be gone for a few days. I’m a grown wizard, Gin. I am allowed to go and stay at the Leaky for a few if I so wish.” He’d tried to put a playful lilt to the words, but both he and Ginny knew they fell flat.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “George, you know you can’t lie to me. You weren’t at the Leaky, I checked. Look, I love you and I won’t say anything to mum, or anyone else, if you choose to tell me where you’ve been. I just don’t want you to be alone and hurting.”

George sighed quietly and scrubbed a hand over his face, he knew Ginny was telling the truth. She wouldn’t tell a soul if he didn’t want her to. “I had a matter of urgency that appeared and I have been taking care of it. I truly can say no more, Gin.”

George wasn’t meeting Ginny’s eyes, it was as good as defeat. It was also as good as telling her exactly where he had been without the gory details. “You’ve been with Draco again, haven’t you?”

He curled his wand hand into a fist, sucking in a lungful of air as his eyelids slid closed. “Ginny, it’s not what you think.” Oh, how I wish it was, he thought. “Look, someone came to me, they were in trouble and they needed a Healer. They didn’t want to go to St. Mungo’s because it would cause all sorts of publicity. So I called for Draco. I have been at Malfoy Manor, yes. But only to keep this person company.”

Ginny was frowning, the grimace marring her beautiful features. “Who came to you, George?”

“I will not betray their confidence, Gin. You know that is not who I am. If and when they are ready, I will let them decide when to tell everyone of their troubles. But until then, I will be back and forth between here and the Manor. Though I would much rather remain at the Manor with this person. They are in a very fragile state and need extra help and attention.” George sighed softly as a vision of Hermione appeared in his mind and he looked at Ginny.

His sister gave her own sigh of defeat, “Okay, George, okay. I won’t ask anymore. Just promise me you’re not going to get yourself caught up in Draco again. I almost didn’t recognize you when you two broke up.”

To be honest, George wished he could promise her that. But the truth was, he was already tangled up in those emotions from just half a year ago. “I can’t promise you that, Ginny. If Draco and I want to rekindle our relationship, that is our decision. We are two adult wizards, we can make our own choices, just as you made the choice to play professional Quidditch and retire after two years.”

The spells George had cast finished their work and the quill that had been doing calculations dropped onto the desk, smoking slightly. He could feel Ginny’s eyes on him yet again as she contemplated what he had said. “Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, Gin. I really need to get back to the Manor, to my friend.”

George looked up at the youngest Weasley sibling. Ginny was looking at some point over his head, a thoughtful look on her face and she was chewing on her bottom lip. George waited patiently. If there was one thing you didn’t do, it was disrupt a thinking Weasley woman.

After more than a few moments, Ginny leveled her eyes on George once again. “If you leave me a list of what you need me to do, office wise, I will do it for you, so you don’t have to leave your friend again. Or worry about the shop. Besides, I could use a break from the Burrow. If you’d allow me to stay in the apartment, that is.”

George thought about what Ginny was offering. He couldn’t really pass it up. It would allow him to spend more time with Hermione, helping her heal. He’d also get to play with Scorpius, as he’d promised the little boy. “Sure, Gin. That would be a great help. I’ll show you the two spells you’ll need, they do all the work really. You can stay in the apartment, just...not in his room, okay?”

Ginny gave him a sympathetic look and nodded, “Absolutely. George, you know you mean the world to me and I would do anything for you. I just want you to be happy and you need a break from the shop. You’ve been running it by yourself for five years. Maybe, when your friend gets better, we can talk it out. I wouldn’t mind helping you run the place. Just think about it and get back to your friend. I can manage here.”

It was true, he was getting run down by managing the joke shop himself. Ginny was perfectly capable of handling things as well while he was helping take care of Hermione. “Thank you, Gin. I honestly can’t thank you enough.” George waved his wand and a list of tasks that needed to be completed each day appeared. He stood and walked around the desk to hand it to Ginny.

She stood to take it from him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. George squeezed his sister against him, his nose resting against the top of her head. “I love you, Gin.”

“Love you too, George.” Gin gave his waist a squeeze and he apparated right out of her arms, back to Hermione and Draco. To his complicated life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Hello Blackians! First, forgive any mistakes this may have. My lovely, amazing, wonderful, awesome and beautiful beta Frogster is only human and has her own squicks. One of which is slash, while nothing in this chapter truly qualifies as slash, I explained what happens and she chose to sit this chapter out. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way, because of all the awesome work she has done for me. So I just ran this through Grammarly. Eventually, for further chapters that may involve Draco and George scenes, I will have a second beta, but tonight I just wanted to get the chapter done and posted for you guys. Anywho, enough of my rambling. I hope you enjoy. Please leave me your thoughts, they are my payment.**
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own the original storyline, nor the original characters. I just like to play with them.**
> 
> **XoXo,**
> 
> **Elle.**

After getting some solid foods into her body, Hermione felt much better. The morning sickness was more manageable and she didn't feel like death warmed over. But nothing could replace the giant and ragged hole in her chest. The spot that Tad used to fill. Gods, she missed him so damn much.

A few days had passed since she had woken from her coma and she finally managed to convince her wardens that she wasn't suicidal. Though they had made her agree to hourly check-ins. She couldn't say she blamed them, after all, they both knew from experience what she was dealing with and had probably shared the same thoughts she currently had flitting through her head.

When one of the boys would come in to check on her, she would look at the door and give them a small smile. A few minutes of small talk would ensue and then they would leave her alone again. Hermione would sink back into the dark fog that constantly surrounded her. She had been trying to pull herself out of the vortex of sadness that swirled faster and faster every day.

The books on the shelves had been helping. Hermione had read through several of them already and had just finished the one in her hands. She stood from the bed, sighing softly as her fingers ruffled the pages of the book. Hermione’s eyes lifted to the clock on the wall. She had a half hour until Draco or George came to check on her.

Her fingers trailed across the spines of the books, feeling the difference between the magical and the muggle. Hermione turned around, hearing a slight scuffle outside her door, frowning at the noise. It was a dull scratching sound on her door and she was curious as to what it could be. She had just taken a step toward the door when the knob turned and the panel opened wide to reveal a small child with a halo of white blond hair.

The two blinked at each other in shock. Hermione, at seeing a mirror image of Draco Malfoy, in a toddlers body. Scorpius, at obviously seeing a woman in his home who wasn’t his grandmother. The little boy tilted his head, a curious look filling his bright, cobalt blue eyes. He stepped forward into the room, his eyes never leaving Hermione and hers never leaving his.

As he drew near, Hermione sank to her knees, putting herself on his level. Neither said a word as Scorpius stood just in front of her. He lifted a tiny hand and placed it on her cheek. “Why you sad?”

The tears flooded Hermione’s eyes before she had the chance to fight them and she sat on her bum in an uncoordinated rush, her hand coming up to cover the precious little boy’s on her cheek. “Because my husband died.”

“Like my Mummy?” Scorpius asked, his voice high and clear.

Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat with some difficulty and gave a short nod, “Yes, like your Mummy.”

Scorpius gave a solemn nod, the severe look on his face reminding Hermione so much of his father. Hermione brought her free hand up to wipe away the tears, and Scorpius beat her to the other cheek with his small hand. He then surprised her and wiggled his way into her lap, curling into her body.

That was when the sobs began and she wrapped herself around the tiny body in her lap, her nose tucking into his straight and messy hair. Hermione cried for the injustice of it all. George losing Fred. Draco and Scorpius losing a wife and mother, Hermione losing her husband, her body, her magic forcing her into a coma, the life forming in her body right this very second.

Life had constantly thrown her curveball after curveball, twists, and turns, always taking, rarely giving and it wasn’t fair. Sure, she was finally getting the baby she had dreamed of since she and Tad had got engaged. But she had lost Tad in the process.

Hermione felt small arms wrap around her middle and squeeze her. To be honest, it was what she’d needed. She wasn’t even sure that Draco or even George could have given her that. It was this little toddler, with the pure and innocent heart, that had seen her sadness even when she’d immediately tried to hide it from him. It was Scorpius’ innocence and ability to love and heal with just a simple hug that began to file down the ragged edges of the gaping void in her chest.

The half-hour flew by and Hermione soaked in the love that Scorpius exuded, her sobs ebbing away and leaving her feeling calm and relaxed. She had closed her eyes after the sobs stopped and sighed quietly, ruffling Scorpius’ hair. The boy was still and quiet and she could feel his body relaxed against hers, his breathing deep and even. She wondered if he was asleep.

“Oh thank Merlin. There he is.” Draco’s worried voice filtered through the open door and startled Hermione. She had been half dozing herself.

Hermione nodded, returning to her previous position, her nose buried in Scorpius’ hair once more. “Yeah, he found me. Opened the door on his own. Asked me why I was so sad and then just crawled in my lap and hugged me while I cried. I don't know when he fell asleep.”

Draco’s eyes saddened as Hermione talked and he sighed quietly. “I'm sorry he barged in on you. He won't do it again. Here, I'll take him.”

“Don't,” Hermione said, rather forcefully, her voice finally showing some life, though it was panic and fear. She cleared her throat and swallowed slowly before she tried that again. “Please don't take him or scold him for coming in here. I honestly think I needed this. I needed something so pure and innocent to remind me that the world isn't always a cruel and unjust place.”

Hermione found herself kissing Scorpius’ head every few moments and she could tell that Draco saw it, too. He said nothing but Hermione didn’t miss the look of pain that danced across his face. “Okay, I won't. But at least allow me to help you off the floor.”

“I don't want to wake him.” Hermione frowned in worry, truly not wanting to disturb Scorpius’ nap.

“He's a heavy sleeper, trust me.” Draco gave her a soft smile and moved around behind her, his hands slipping under her arms and lifting her effortlessly from the floor. When Hermione had her feet under her, she walked over to the armchair she had enlarged and sat down into it, curling her body around the smaller one in her arms.

She could feel Draco’s eyes on her, knew he was analyzing her in the way that psychologists, therapists and mind healers did. But she refused to meet the molten silver gaze, she had gotten good at hiding just how raw she was. Though there was no hiding the blackness in her soul. Scorpius shifted in her lap and Hermione looked down at him, a smile tugging at her lips. Perhaps her soul was a little less dark today.

“Try to get some rest with him. He'll sleep for a while. I think you'll find it's some of the best and most relaxing rest you'll ever get.” Draco’s quiet voice said from beside the door. The emotions in his tone were evident and when Hermione turned to look at him, to gauge his reaction, he was already gone, the door closing behind him.

Another small frown marred her features for a moment before she turned back to Scorpius, giving him a squeeze and closing her eyes. It didn't take her very long to slip into the most relaxing and rejuvenating sleep she'd had in a long while.

XxX 

As soon as the door shut behind him, Draco leaned back against the panels, the tears slipping free before he could swipe them away. The mostly closed wound in his chest had opened, seeing Hermione cradling Scorpius like that. It was how he had imagined Astoria holding their son, so many times. He had been in a right panic, trying to find his curious and adventurous son in the large manor. His mother and the elves were searching the gardens, while he and George had been searching the house. Scorpius had never just disappeared in the house before and it had thrown all of them into panic mode.

“Fellie. Ardo.” The two elves he had summoned appeared immediately, sweat on their brows from the heat outside. “Fellie, please go and find George. Ardo, my mother. Tell them both that I have located Scorpius and he is safe and unharmed. Fellie, please tell George where I am. Ardo, tell my mother that we will see her for dinner.”

“Right aways, Master.” They echoed and disappeared.

Draco slid down the door and his head fell into his hands. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.” He resisted the urge to bang his head into the wood behind him. That was how George found him a few minutes later.

“Draco? What’s wrong?” George asked, kneeling next to Draco, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

“He found Hermione. He apparently opened the door himself, asked why she was so sad and comforted her as she cried. They were asleep, sitting on the floor when I found them. George, just the sight of her holding him…” Draco’s voice gave out on him, cracking into nothingness from the immense emotions. He hated appearing this vulnerable, this weak.

The understanding in George’s gentle eyes told Draco that George knew what he’d been trying to say. George stood and extended a large and scarred hand to Draco. “Come on. They'll likely be out for a while, we could both do with a nap of our own.”

Draco looked at the hand in front of him. He wasn't exactly sure what George was offering here, but he was warring with himself regardless. It was so hard to fight against what was right and what he thought he might want. Draco bit the bullet and took George’s hand.

George pulled Draco’s lithe frame up easily, with more force than necessary and Draco fell into George’s chest. His first instinct was to push away from George, but the panic from the last hour had yet to abate fully and Draco found that he needed the comfort. His arms wound around George’s waist overlapping so that Draco’s fingers curled around George’s ribs. One of the things Draco always liked about his former lover, was that George was several inches taller than he was.

He could feel George rest his own head against the top of his blond hair and Draco heaved a sigh, some of the heavy weight melting away. “I miss Tori, George. She should be here to hold Scorpius like that. Fred should still be here. Hermione’s husband should still be here. She shouldn’t have to go through the pregnancy alone.”

“She’s not going to go through it alone, Draco. She has us. Come on.” George pulled away from Draco and led him next door to his suite of rooms. When the door was shut behind them, Draco immediately went for the decanter of firewhiskey high up on a shelf, out of Scorpius’ reach.

Draco poured two generous glasses full and walked one over to George, then took a drink of his own. “I know that she does, but it’s not the same, George and you know it. That’s like saying that you have Ginny even though Fred is gone. Or I had you, even though Astoria is no longer here.” The rest of the firewhiskey burned on the way down Draco’s throat as George fell silent, the depth of the words Draco had spoked settling in.

“Dammit,” George muttered quietly, running a hand through his hair as he took a long drink, draining the glass. “We need to stop thinking right now. We’re too raw after looking for Scorpius and the events of the past week.” George took Draco’s empty glass and put them both back where they belonged, taking Draco’s hand and led him down the short hallway to his bedroom.

When Hermione had woken from the coma, Draco had given George another room on the hall to allow Hermione some privacy. But Draco was glad that George wasn’t leaving him alone just yet. He’d probably drink himself into oblivion if left on his own right now.

As Draco came through the door, George shut it behind him and turned his hazel eyes to Draco. The heat radiating off of the red-head was nearly suffocating and Draco had to open his mouth to pull air down into his lungs. George stepped forward and Draco backed into the door out of instinct, but it did him no good. He was now pinned there by George, his hands braced on either side of Draco’s head. “You’re thinking too much, Draco.”

George was right, of course, Draco was thinking too much. He was always over thinking. But his thoughts, which had whisked him away from the present, were cut off abruptly when George kissed him firmly. Draco jerked in surprise and fought the kiss only for a moment before he draped his arms around George’s neck and pulled their bodies together.

Draco had forgotten what it had felt like to truly kiss George and he missed it. Merlin, did he miss kissing. Not just kissing, but being held, loved, and just comforted.

George pulled away and they both were breathing heavily, “Now, let’s go take that nap.”

“Fuck,” Draco mumbled and banged his head back against the door with a groan before following George to his bed and climbing in. George pressed his chest against Draco’s back and slid his arms around Draco. The old familiarity of being ensconced in those long and muscular arms was like sinking into a warm bath, both welcoming and relaxing. Draco’s muscles unknotted and the tension bled from his body as he closed his eyes. The exhaustion from the last week and today’s panic taking over Draco and pulling him into a deep sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Hello Blackians! I’m back with another chapter! So, just as a trigger warning, as you all know, there have been some M/M moments. The beginning of this chapter is no different. Skip past it if you must and don’t say I didn’t warn you. Because I did. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**
> 
> **Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor the characters. I just like to play around in it.**
> 
> **XoXo,**
> 
> **Elle.**

George drifted into awareness before Draco did. His first cognitive thought was of someone in his arms. A strong and masculine scent, one that he recognized, washed over him. As his hazel eyes slid open just a sliver, his sight was met with a shock of white blond hair. Suddenly, George remembered what had transpired a few hours earlier: Scorpius going missing in the massive manor house, Draco going mad looking for him, and George kissing the blond to turn Draco’s mind off, to push his reset button.

It amazed George how alike Draco and Hermione were in that way. They both went into a mania over things, and the only way to pull them free of the spiral was to shock them in some way. Today, for Hermione, it seemed to be Scorpius’ surprise visit. For Draco, it had been a searing kiss.

George sighed heavily. He knew it didn't change anything for Draco. That wizard was too afraid of what society would think, still. Even though Lucius had been gone for years, the impressions he'd made on his son persisted. The Malfoy name was important to Draco. Even though wizarding society as a whole were fine with homosexuality, Lucius would have seen it as a stain on the Malfoy legacy.

He shifted his hips away from Draco’s backside, not wanting to put Draco in an awkward position when he woke. But the wizard just followed George’s movements, causing a groan to pull from George’s chest. “Dammit, Draco,” George muttered under his breath. He was going to have to get out of the bed if Draco kept this up. He was just about to do so when Draco moved his hips again, but Draco whipped his hand around so fast, his fingers digging into George’s hip that George stilled.

“Don't move, George,” Draco’s voice was all rasp, as if he'd been chewing on gravel for hours. The command in that deep voice had George frozen in place, his hand resting on Draco’s ribbed stomach, the other gripping the sheets. Draco’s grip loosened on George’s hip, his hand beginning to move along the ridge of bone, following it inward. George couldn't help but suck in a breath as his erection jerked in anticipation.

Draco’s fingers drifted along, the tips bumping into his hard cock, causing George to bite his lip to stifle a groan. George could feel that Draco’s breathing had accelerated and was a little erratic. It was hard not to hear as Draco gulped, his fingers lifted and his hand moved to rest and curl over George’s shaft. George swallowed thickly himself as he tried to keep his hips still. He knew that this was hard for Draco and wanted to give him the lead.

After a minute of stillness, Draco began moving his hand at an awkward angle, stroking George through the soft cotton sleep trousers he had on. George tilted his head forward resting his face in the curve of Draco’s exposed neck and attempted to keep quiet, but there was only so quiet he could stay. He hadn’t been touched like this since Draco, and the feeling of someone else's hand on him was almost too much.

In an effort to stifle the sounds of his pleasure, he started placing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of Draco’s neck, taking care not to suck too hard on the delicate skin. George remembered all too well how easily his lover’s pale flesh marked.

XxX

Draco’s mind was at war. One half was yelling at him to stop what he was doing. It wasn't right. Not to get himself attached again or lead George on. But the other half was right in the moment and wanted to turn around so he could look George in those hazel eyes. Only two things were stopping him from doing that: Draco really enjoyed what George was doing to his neck right now, and it would be too emotional to connect gazes with the red-head.

Instead, he slid his free hand up over his head and into George’s hair, fingers curling into the shaggy tresses. His other hand was tracing the thick cock hidden beneath the pajamas George had on. Draco was re-learning every vein and ridge through his touch as best he could, but he was prohibited by the fabric. He bent his elbow up and worked his fingers under the waistband, brushing bare skin and curly red hair, earning a deep groan from the wizard behind him.

The sound sent a shiver down his spine, straight into the head of his own cock. Draco let his fingers trail through the curls as he slowly trekked his way down. It only took a couple of moments for his middle and index finger to make contact with the thick base of George’s shaft, nestled within the bed of those dark red curls Draco remembered so well. Draco could feel the heat radiating from George’s cock and swallowed thickly. He was practically salivating in excitement already.

Draco wrapped his fingers around the thickness and stroked up once, causing both men to emit a sound of pleasure. “Fuck it,” Draco growled and flipped his grip, turning over in the bed, pushing George onto his back in the process. George chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling with arousal, as he lifted his hips to help Draco take the trousers down. Draco all but ripped them off George’s legs, his eyes zeroed in on George’s erection bouncing free of its confines.

“Like what you see, Draco?” George asked, the challenge clear in his voice, and Draco couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face.

A glance at the watch on his wrist told him that Scorpius would be asleep for a while longer. “I don't know. I'm going to have to inspect it and see.”

Draco wrapped his hand fore- and middle fingers around the base, the others splayed out on George’s abdomen. He leaned in and opened his mouth, allowing a line of spit to trail from his lips, dropping on George’s swollen head. George sucked in on a hiss, and Draco smirked as he brought his hand up George’s cock, spreading the lubrication around.

George’s eyes were locked on him, Draco could feel that hazel stare burning into him. As he swiped his thumb over George’s head, spreading the drop of precum that had gathered there, he glanced up, intending to return his gaze back to what he'd been doing. But those eyes drew him in, just as he’d known they would.

George adjusted himself up onto an elbow and brought his free arm up to thread his fingers through Draco’s hair, dragging them down to his neck. Then Draco was allowing himself to be pulled in for a searing kiss, their lips moving against each other feverishly at a bruising pace. Draco began to pump his hand in earnest, following the movements of George’s tongue in his mouth.

Draco broke away, panting heavily, cock aching with a beat of its own, and looked down at George with wide eyes. Even in the heat of this moment, he was scared. His hand was still pumping on George’s cock, twisting as he moved up and down, but there was the fear in the back of his mind and no doubt in his eyes, especially when George’s gaze softened, and he leaned in to kiss Draco again, softer this time.

A whimper left Draco’s lips as he leaned into George’s chest, his hand slowing, and before he knew it, the dynamic changed from hot, heavy and about George to about Draco. George rolled Draco over easily, his hand falling from George’s cock as George kissed him. He could feel fingers lifting the hem of his shirt, and he raised his torso, allowing George to rid him of the garment.

Draco watched as George then removed his own shirt and pressed his body against Draco’s. The only thing separating them were Draco’s slacks and Draco didn't know if he wanted them off or not. “Draco?”

“Hmm?” Draco looked up at George, and he knew his mind wasn't in the moment any more, his body was, but his mind wasn't.

“You let yourself over think again,” George replied, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his elbow.

Draco sighed, beating his head against the pillow, his hand coming up to try and scrub his face off. “I know. I know.”

He felt George move beside him, felt the covers settle over the both of them, covering George’s nakedness. “What's in that mind of yours? Talk to me.”

If he said what was on his mind, he would hate himself, George would likely hate him. “I don't know what I'm doing George. I don't know what I want. I'm floundering around trying to find the shallow end and only going deeper. But I know that the only thing that makes sense—my beacon, my lighthouse—is Scorpius. I should be focused on him and instead, I have you and Granger all in my head, twisting everything up. And I don't know what to do about it.” Draco slid from the bed and began pacing. “I know what you're probably thinking, that I'm scared of what society would say or what my father would say if you and I were to be in an open relationship. But the thing is, I'm not. I could not give a damn about what anyone would say.”

George’s sigh drew Draco’s gaze. “Then what has you so hung up, Draco? Why is it so hard to be with me now, versus six months ago?”

That was the question of the year, wasn't it? Draco ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “I loved our time together, George. Don't ever think that I didn't. We both helped each other in ways that therapy never would have touched. But I just— fuck, this is going to sound fucking terrible. I just don't see myself with a guy long term. I hate how that fucking sounds.”

Draco raised his eyes to George’s and wished he hadn’t. The hurt in those hazel eyes of his was paramount. It made Draco want to crawl into a dark hole and die. “Right. Well, I suppose I should probably get dressed. And I need to go check on the shop, check in with my mum.”

“I'll give you some privacy, then. I'm going to check on Hermione and Scorpius.” Draco spoke quietly, unable to get his voice above a whisper. He left the room quickly, shutting the door behind him. His stomach was bubbling like a cauldron, and he felt as if he could vomit.

The further away from the bedroom he got, the more the feeling intensified, until he found himself running into Hermione’s room and darting into the bathroom. Draco was curled around the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach when he felt a hand on his back. “Draco? Are you okay?”

Draco sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before reaching up and flushing the toilet, disposing of the sick. “No, not in the slightest. Is Scorpius still asleep?”

“Yes, I was awake when you came storming in. I laid him down and came to see about you. What happened? Are you sick?” Hermione asked him, putting her wrist to his forehead, feeling for a fever.

“Not in that sense, no. Just made myself sick by breaking someone’s heart is all.” Draco groaned, leaning his head against the wall, the nausea returning as he thought about the devastation on George’s face. “On that note, George might not be back tonight.”

Draco could feel Hermione’s confusion as she looked at him, her hand brushing the hair from his eyes. “He wanted something you couldn't give, didn't he?”

She’d hit the nail on the head with that question. Draco had felt it, over the last week; George trying to push things in the direction he'd wanted them to go. Not that George was doing it out of malice or spite. He was just a man who knew what he wanted. Draco hadn't thought about it that way, and it took away some of the sickness he felt. “Yes.”

“He's good at that. He means well when he does it, but he just doesn't understand that not everyone can give what they don't have. I guess that came with being a twin. Always having someone there to give you what you needed.” Hermione gave him a sad smile. “And I’m sure it’s truer now than when we dated. He's lost that side of himself and he's searching for it in someone else.”

Draco’s eyes slid shut as he considered Hermione’s words. She'd uncovered yet another thing he hadn't seen himself about George. “I'm not a very good mind healer,” He said, his voice defeated.

“Why do you say that?” Hermione asked quietly, her voice coming from farther away. Draco heard the sink turn on and opened an eye to see Hermione wetting a washcloth. He closed his eye once more as she turned to come back to him.

“Because you've noticed things I should have as his mind healer.” Draco sighed softly in defeat.

The warmth of the damp cloth against his lips startled him, and he jumped when Hermione wiped his mouth. “Sorry. Yes, I may have noticed those things, Draco, but it comes with years of knowing him. Being as close as family with someone and then dating them, being intimate with them, it gives you a perspective on them that no one else has.” Hermione lifted the cloth from Draco’s lips and brought it around his temple. The feeling of being taken care of brought him a sense of comfort. “But you also let yourself cross that professional line with him. You both took things personal by starting a relationship, and that tends to lead to blind spots. We don't want to see the things that could be detrimental to what we have going, what could be a good thing. While you loved him, it's best for you to be apart. You are not meant to be with George. I could see the chemistry when I woke up, but I could also see that it isn't meant to be. He needs someone who can give him exactly what he needs. Someone who doesn't have the history you or I do…”

Hermione’s voice broke at that point, her eyes turning glassy, and she began to shake. Draco felt his heart clench in his chest as his own thoughts turned to Astoria and Scorpius. “He deserves to be happy. We all do.” Draco whispered quietly, catching Hermione’s hand, pulling the now cold washcloth from her quaking fingers. Once the fabric was free from her hold, she collapsed against his chest, and Draco wrapped his arms around her. He would never wish this kind of pain on anyone, much less the witch in his arms. This was a special kind of pain. To have the love of your life leave you in such a traumatic way, leaving you behind with a tiny life to look after on your own? It was the worst pain imaginable. And he'd be damned if he let her go through it alone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Hello my Blackians! Long time, no see! Sorry it has been a while. So long in fact that my phones keyboard seems to have deleted your nickname. Ah, oh well. So it seems Ophelia is peeking out from her deep, dark cave now. And I hope that is the case. Anyway, I don't want to keep you waiting, not much happens, so it's kind of filler. But George does go visit someone. And we get some Daddy!Draco action.**
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, just the plot.**
> 
> **XoXo,**
> 
> **Elle.**

“Fuck.” George laid his arm over his eyes, pushing his head further into the downy pillow, only serving to force Draco’s scent to burrow into his nose. With a heavy exhale, George pulled himself into a sitting position and scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t been lying when he had told Draco he needed to go and check on the shop and check in with his mum. He was sure Molly had to be worried sick. It had now been over a week since they had last seen each other. George was thoroughly surprised he hadn’t received a Howler by now, demanding to know where he was.

The hardwood floors were cold under his bare feet, but the temperature shocked him from his daze and served to clear his mind. He could see now what he’d been doing. George had been projecting his needs and desires, attempting to sway things to his preferred outcome. Just as he and Fred always had. He stood from the bed and found his clothing in the sheets, pulling each item on slowly. He hated to leave Hermione overnight, but he needed the break. As much as he wanted to tell her that he was going to be gone, George knew that Draco would have went there when he left the room. He couldn’t face that pain just yet.

George stepped into the loo and scrubbed his face with a cloth and hot water, leaving it red and looking irritated. He looked down at the pajamas he had on; he'd been wearing them for a few days now. Though the elves had washed them, he needed to go to the Burrow first and get some clothes. He'd taken what few things had been left at the apartment, which had only been a couple of suits and some pajamas. With another look at his forlorn face, he disapparated from Draco’s bathroom to the field outside his childhood home.

The moment the crack of apparition faded, the back door opened and his plump and graying mother appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips. There was a dish towel hanging from one hand and her mouth was set in a worried line. George tried to apply a playful smile to his lips, but he knew it looked strained. “Hi mum,” he said when he got closer to her.

“Where have you been?” Molly’s sharp voice rang out, doing little to hide her concern behind the old annoyance she was trying to display. “And don't you dare say the Leaky. I owled there and Hannah wrote back saying you weren't there. And Ginny’s been at your room in the flat. So where have you been?”

She had yet to move from the door to allow him in the house. George doubted she would until she had an answer from him that she was satisfied with. He darted his eyes past her, looking into the kitchen. “Is Ron home?”

If Molly’s eyes could have widened any further, they would have popped right free of her head. The look would have been comical, if not for the trouble he knew he'd get in for laughing, even if he was an adult. “You're not changing the subject George Weasley! Answer me!”

George took a deep breath and let all the pretenses he’d been carefully trying to craft fall from his face. “I've been at the Manor.”

“The-" His mother’s face started changing colors as one hand left her hip to land on the framing of the door. “Malfoy Manor? You've been with Draco? George...you swore to me...you swore.”

This is precisely why he hadn’t wanted to tell her. He knew she'd react this way, as soon as she'd heard the word “manor.” Even if he'd tried to go on to finish explaining. “Mum, please let me in, and we’ll sit down. It's not the picture you're painting in that mind of yours. I'll explain, as much as I can.”

Those eyes--hazel, just like his and Fred’s--popped up to look at him. “That mind of yours? What exactly does that mean? Oh, blast it all.” She slapped him with the dish towel as she realized what he'd been trying to do and smiled at him, finally stepped aside to let him in.

George followed her to the table and sat down in his father's chair, resting his elbows on the table, allowing his head to drop into his hands. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes as he heard a tray of tea being fixed. When the clang of the tray announced its arrival, he lifted his head. “I'm going to start with this. You're going to want to ask who, but I will not tell you. Do you understand?” George watched as his mother frowned, her brow pinching together as her mouth opened to ask a question and he shook his head. “No, please don't ask questions yet.” He watched again as she nodded, pouring them both a cuppa. George took a long sip of his tea before continuing.

“On the night of the anniversary, I was closing the shop when I heard someone apparate behind me. When I turned around to see who it was, we caught gazes for a moment, before they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.” George was staring into the seemingly bottomless depths of his tea, but he could see his mother's hand come up to her mouth. The shock evident, as well as the burning desire to ask who it was. “I levitated them to the flat and tried to wake them. But was unsuccessful. I know, I know. Why didn't you take them to Mungo’s. Draco asked the same thing when I called him over. But I knew if I had, it would have been a nightmare for this person. Something they wouldn’t have wanted.

“So I waited a couple of hours, to see if they would wake on their own. They didn't, so I called for Draco. He tried several things there at the flat. But when they didn't work, he needed to get back to Scorpius for bedtime. And he wanted to be able to keep a close eye on his patient, so we moved them to the Manor. That's why I've been there. This person came to me for a reason and I wanted to be there when they woke up. And they did, three days later.” George paused to take another drink of his tea, wishing it was something stronger. Finally risking a glance at his mother.

He could tell she was fighting back all kind of questions, so he gave her a nod. “Are they, is this person, someone I know?”

George sighed softly, turning his cup around on its saucer. It was as close as she was going to get to asking who it was. “Yes. But that's all I'll tell you. Until they're ready to tell anyone else. Narcissa, Draco, Scorpius and I are the only ones who know.”

“Are they alright?” Molly asked, a waver in her voice. Just knowing that someone she cared about had been in a medical emergency had her worried beyond belief.

“As okay as they can be, given the situation they were subjected to. They were unharmed physically. It was just an emotional trauma that proved to be too much.” George gave him mum a look. “Really, mum, I can't say much more.”

Molly nodded, “Okay, George. I'm just glad that you're okay. And that you're not...well, you know.”

Oh yeah, he knew exactly what his mother meant. But thank Merlin she had misinterpreted the majority of his stress as concern for Hermione’s well being and not his heartache over Draco’s rejection yet again. “No worries there, mum. Draco and I are just friends. I'm going to go grab some clothes, so I can go back to the Manor. My friend still needs me. But I'm going to check in on the shop first.”

George and Molly both rose from their chairs and Molly hugged George round the middle. His own arms sliding around her shoulders. “I love you, Georgie.”

“I love you too, Mum.” George kissed the top of her ginger hair and headed off upstairs, to Charlie’s old room to gather some clothes. He'd taken it over when he moved back into the Burrow. He'd head to the Leaky, secure a room, then go to the shop. Then back to the pub to get pissed.

XxX

Draco had no idea how much time they had spent on the marble floor of the bathroom. But Hermione had cried herself back to sleep and he wasn't going to move her. He heard some shuffling from out in the bedroom and he assumed Scorpius had woken up. “Scorp?”

He hoped his son heard him; he didn't want to raise his voice much higher than a whisper. When he heard the small footsteps coming toward the bathroom, he smiled. A little blond head poked around the corner and those blue eyes surveyed the scene. It never failed to amaze Draco how smart his son was for his age. “Is her sleeping?”

“Yeah, buddy. She's asleep. Come on over here, Daddy needs a hug.” Draco smiled and held his free arm open, waiting for the toddler to walk over to him. Scorpius’ hair was dangling down into his eyes and Draco couldn't help but be reminded of Potter. When he had his arm wrapped around his son, he whispered in his ear, “We need to trim that hair of yours. It's getting to be a bird's nest. You scared me today, bud. You can't wander off like that without telling someone where you're going. This is a big house, with rooms that are no place for little boys by themselves.” While that wasn’t necessarily the whole truth anymore, Draco was still uncertain about a couple of rooms and was in the process of getting some curse breakers to come in.

Scorpius hung his head and nodded. “I sorry, Daddy. Uncle Georgie and you came in here lots.”

Curious little soul, so much like his mother. And himself, Draco supposed. Merlin knew he'd snuck around this Manor enough, trying to pry into the locked rooms. “That we did, bud. Miss Hermione needed Daddy’s help, so Uncle George brought her here. But what have I taught you about knocking on closed doors? Like when you go to visit Grammy in her rooms.”

“Always knock first.” Scorpius repeated from memory, giving Draco a big smile, which quickly dissolved into a frown. “Miss Herminny is really sad. Her said her Mister died, like my mummy. I don’t want her to be sad, Daddy.”

Draco sighed softly, kissing the top of Scorpius’ head. “I don’t either, buddy. I don’t either.”


End file.
